


The King of Slytherin

by KZ55



Series: Robes of Green [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Dirty Jokes, F/M, Gen, Harry Potter & Fleur Delacour friendship, Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley Friendship, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Hogwarts Inter-House Rivalries, Implied Relationships, Male-Female Friendship, Non-Canon Relationship, Sirius Black Free from Azkaban, Slytherin Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-06-28 07:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 210,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15702807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KZ55/pseuds/KZ55
Summary: Fourth year has arrived, and it's anything but normal for the self-proclaimed King of Slytherin.Contains bits of Harry/Fleur, Harry/Pansy, and Harmony.NB: Story formatted in present tense, and the ending might prove controversial for some folks.





	1. A Second Home

**Author's Note:**

> [I own nothing in the Harry Potter franchise, all such content belongs to J.K. Rowling.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I own nothing in the Harry Potter franchise, all such content belongs to J.K. Rowling.]

_Number 4, Privet Drive, July 30th, 1994._

A knock on Harry's bedroom door is followed by a rather nervous Uncle Vernon stepping through. "Boy! There's this suspicious-looking character standing at our front door. Go and find out if he's one of your abnormal people before we call the police for harassment."

Harry folds Hermione's latest hand-written letter and stashes it away before making his way downstairs. "Now who'd want to visit—" He opens the door and smiles. "Seriously? You're showing up like this?"

Dudley takes one look towards the door and laughs. "Who's that? I didn't know Potter has a boyfriend, hahaha!"

Nymphadora Tonks, disguised as some athletic boy named Todd, merely waves and enters the Dursleys' home. "Wotcher, Muggles; mind if I come in and pick up the birthday boy on behalf of his godfather?"

"You coming to fetch him or literally pick him up?" asks Dudley, still laughing and shoving potato crisps into his mouth.

"Hilarious," says Harry.

Tonks' use of the term 'Muggles' only confirms the suspicions of this being someone from the Wizarding World. But Aunt Petunia remains suspicious. "And how exactly can we trust that you're not from that Lord Something person? I don't want Dumbledore kicking down our door and admonishing us for letting this boy slip into the wrong hands."

"Well..." Tonks raises her hands to show that she's not holding her wand. "Did you see me do any magic, huh? So, why is your nephew then this willing to come with me? Oh, by the way, the name's Todd."

Harry looks from Tonks to Aunt Petunia. "By the way; that's actually a girl in there."

All three Dursleys simply gawk at Tonks, then they glance at each other in confusion before Dudley speaks. "What the heck's wrong with their world? Girls are boys are girls?"

"Ha!" Tonks takes the opportunity to Metamorphose just her face into her usual self... and all three Dursleys jump back in fright.

"BLOODY HELL!" gasps Uncle Vernon.

"DAD? MUM? WHAT—"

"Enough! Vernon, I say we just let this boy go to his abnormal bunch already," says Aunt Petunia.

"Uh, fine," says Uncle Vernon, still clutching at his chest as he looks at Harry. "B-By all means, go and spend the rest of your holidays elsewhere, boy!"

Both Harry and Tonks race up the stairs and begin packing up the former's belongings strewn about his bedroom. And since Tonks is authorised to do basic magic in the vicinity of Harry and his Muggles today, it takes barely a few minutes to clean up this mess.

"I never really got to see that thing up close," says Tonks, with regards to Harry's Firebolt. "Wicked colour scheme there, you arrogant little Slytherin."

"Are you jealous? Wanna ride my broomstick? It's fast, wild, and quite rough to handle."

Tonks completely reverts to her female self which causes her male clothing to hit the bedroom floor. And the gaping expression on Harry's face simply has Tonks laughing as she takes aim at her clothes. "You gonna stare all night or what?"

"Wait, wait, wait... So, if you can change whatever you like, then does that mean you can—whoa!" Harry gawks as Tonks deliberately makes a few 'private' changes right here. "And you call me a pervert!? Oh, uh, I guess now the carpet actually matches the drapes."

"Well, truth be told..." Tonks makes another little change down below. "I prefer that there be no carpet at all; that's just my style, Horny-Boy-Who-Lived." She sniggers while Transfiguring her male clothes to fit her female form. "Judging by your constant staring, I guess you like 'em clean as well, huh?"

"You're even crazier than Sirius, hahaha!"

The smell of gravy and deep fried chicken gradually permeates the entire house as Tonks cleans Hedwig's cage with a spell. "Blimey, your Muggles are really enjoying their late dinner now that you're going away, huh? Bunch of prats."

Harry ignores the sounds of the microwave being used, and he cares little for the smell of popcorn coming from downstairs as well. "Just leave them; they're a bunch of big, immature children, really. And I guess they'll stuff themselves full to cope with the shock of your little trick earlier."

Once Tonks has dressed herself in her usual fashion, Harry leads the way downstairs and eventually into the hallway.

"Just so you folks know," says Tonks, waving at the gobsmacked Dursleys in the kitchen. "Not all of us can chop and change ourselves at will; it's...well... genetic, so to speak."

"Yeah," adds Harry, leaning through the doorway to speak with his gaping family. "We're not all as mental as this girl over here."

"Cheers, normal folks!"

They step out the front door and stand beside Uncle Vernon's pristine lawn. And it's here where Tonks attaches Harry's luggage to a harness on her Comet Two Sixty broom. Judging by the overcast skies above, it would also seem that Tonks has picked the perfect night to retrieve Harry from his Muggle home.

"Uh, where exactly are you taking me, girl?"

"I'm sure you know all about the Fidelius Charm, Harry, so you'd know that I can't say. However..." Tonks gestures towards her pocket and smiles. "I'll let you read the information once we get to Claremont Square in London. Now, are you ready? I'd suggest taking off while there are no eyes on us at the moment."

They kick off from the ground and head for the skies; their distance keeping them away from any Muggle eyes. But in order to do so, both Harry and Tonks are forced to brave the freezing clouds for well over a few minutes up here.

"Ugh, let's get out of here as soon as possible 'cos I'm getting soaked!" says Tonks. "Bet you like the thought of that, eh?"

Harry feels his hands growing number by the minute on his Firebolt. "Damn this weather! It's nearly as bad up here as my Gryffindor match last year. Hopefully, there won't be any Dementors headed my way..."

"Yeah, Sirius told me all about that unfortunate incident." They eventually turn southwest to avoid the motorway as Tonks leads them to the largest collection of lights Harry's yet seen from up here. "Say hello to the city of London once more, feeling excited yet, Harry?"

"If Sirius is in London, then that'll really shorten our King's Cross trips!" Harry follows her through on the descent until the sprawling mass of lanterns and lights draw closer by the second. Then they finally land on a patch of unkempt grass in the centre of a small square; their teeth chattering from tonight's icy cold flight. "I'm f-fricken frrrreezing..."

"Oh shame, man..." Tonks slips off her trench coat and offers it to Harry. "Don't worry about sweeping up all the dirt 'cos it's too big; let's just get you warm and cosy inside." She leads Harry to stand on a pavement facing a few large, terraced houses across the road. "Check what Professor Dumbledore's borrowed me."

Tonks pulls out what appears to be a silver lighter, holds it up, and then clicks it. To Harry's amazement, he spots the nearest streetlamp going out. "Wow, that's quite cool."

"Yep, you wanna give this a go? Should prevent any Muggles from seeing us out here."

Harry grabs the silver cigarette lighter thing, holds it up, and then proceeds to extinguish each surrounding lamp until the street is covered in darkness. By now, it's just the moon and some windows which provide a bit of light as Tonks leads Harry onto the opposite pavement.

"Now, smart-arse, I said I can't tell you a thing because Dumbledore himself is the Secret-Keeper for Sirius' place. But I can show you..."

"Thank you, Dora." Harry reads the piece of parchment handed to him which states:  _The home of Sirius Black may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._ A battered door suddenly appears, out of nowhere, between numbers eleven and thirteen—and this is followed by an extra house squeezing itself between the two. Not a single thing is noticed or felt by the Muggles living nearby as their lives carry on uninterrupted.

"Stop gaping like a fish out of water, Harry." Tonks nudges him forward but quickly gasps. "No! Don't ring the—"

Too late. Harry makes use of the serpent-like, silver knocker on the front door. "I remember Sirius saying his whole family was in Slytherin."

"Yeah, and now you're about to meet his mum thanks to using that thing." Tonks taps her wand on the door which elicits many mechanical noises on its other end. "Quickly, before we're spotted!" They step inside and shut the door behind them. But before Harry can get a good look at the darkened hall before them, he yelps and covers his ears.

"FILTHY HALF-BREED FREAK, HOW DARE YOU ENTER THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS! BEGONE, YOU FILTH! BEGO—"

"SHUT UP, YOU ACCURSED HAG! NOBODY TALKS TO HIM LIKE THAT!" Sirius works alongside Tonks to help pull the moth-eaten curtains shut over a deranged old woman's screaming portrait.

"I wish this old witch never had a Permanent Sticking Charm behind her! Just shut it already!" shouts Tonks.

Finally, once things have settled down, Harry takes the opportunity to observe his surroundings: dimly-lit gas lamps hang to the sides of the hallway, the old portraits remain glaring at him, and the cobwebbed chandelier hangs precariously overhead. Then he's swiftly ushered into the dining room where Sirius and Tonks sit him at the long, elegant table.

"Sorry about that, Harry. I guess I should've warned you about alerting what's left of my deranged mother in this world. From now on, keep it soft and preferably to a whisper out there in the hallway," says Sirius.

For probably the first time today, Harry finds himself unable to speak. The sheer unexpected blitz of insults against him, right near his birthday (and in such a discriminative manner), has him gobsmacked.

"There's nothing we can do to remove that miserable portrait," says Tonks, standing Harry up and removing the oversized trench coat. "Hey now, don't take it personally. You should hear the things she shouts towards me, considering that I'm still family."

"Look at this place." Sirius snorts while gesturing towards the old Black family china stored in dusty cabinets nearby. "So goddamn pretentious! Ugh, this is why I never wanted to come back here. I asked Dumbledore—"

"He wants us here, and this is where we'll stay," insists Tonks. "Besides, remember that whoever's still working for You-Know-Who might be interested in you these days. Why say 'no' to a free Fidelius Charm courtesy of the Headmaster himself?"

"Yeah, but we could've picked any other house out there."

"It's no secret that you ran away and severed ties with your family," says Harry. "I guess Dumbledore reckons this is really one of the least expected places to find you."

"Alright, fine; no need to go two-on-one with the lecture." Sirius decides that it's probably in their best interest to remain here. "But, on the bright side, there's nothing stopping us from making the occasional trip or two for fun."

"Risky business, Sirius," says Tonks. "Oh, who am I kidding? Most of the Death Eaters who aren't locked up in Azkaban are too damn scared to really do anything. And your friendly neighbourhood Auror is here to protect any young and perverted godsons around."

" _Half-Breed_. Now that just makes me sound like an animal..."

Tonks pats Harry on the head. "Ignore the old bitch, man. My mum said 'screw it' to this family then went and married my Muggleborn dad. So that makes two  _Half-Bloods_  in this room."

"Enough with the doom and gloom," says Sirius. "Guess what, Harry? Since this shitty place is Unplotabble and under a Fidelius Charm, the Ministry won't know if you start using magic over the holidays."

"Come on, Sirius, it's now"—Tonks checks her watch—"around nine o'clock. Let's do some Transfiguration and go get ourselves some food before I starve to death in here."

"Transfigure? For what? Have you forgotten about me being a free man? All this wretched dirt getting to your head?" asks Sirius.

"It's an Auror's duty to remain alert and cautious. Right, Harry?"

But Harry doesn't seem pleased about anything at all. "That old hag needs to be blown to bits already. Hmph, insulting my blood status on the eve of my birthday? How dare she!"

"Oh my God..." Tonks throws up her hands. "Stress relief, child; you look like you need it. Now, let's pick out a room to throw some spells around before heading for dinner."

"I suppose, yeah, alright. Let's do some magic," says Harry, drawing his holly wand.

"That's the spirit! So, Sirius, which room will it be before our fast food trip?" asks Tonks.

"I believe Harry's Boggart is a Dementor? It just so happens that we've got a Boggart living in the drawing room upstairs. Well, I'm not sure what else could be causing that noise from a desk." Sirius leads the group upstairs to the long, high-ceilinged, drawing room where he points out the desk in question. "Careful now, this room is a living disaster. We've got Doxys on the curtains, filth everywhere, and I don't wanna know what else in here."

"Doxys?! Aren't those things poisonous? What the hell?" asks Harry.

"There's no way I'm resorting to being a slave here. Find some other lady to help you men clean this trashpile," says Tonks, surveying the drawing room with a disgusted expression.

"Help us out, Dora; I'll do anything you want!" pleads Harry.

Sirius smiles. "Did he just call you Dora? How cute."

"Sorry, but you men are on your own now."

"Fine then, Nymphadora!" Harry takes a few steps into the room to approach the locked desk; however, he immediately bolts as a few Doxys come flying out from the curtains. "Wait, why am I running from a bunch of little pests? Let's kill 'em!"

"Best thing to do would be to give this crappy old hellhole a thorough cleaning," says Sirius. "But we're gonna need a lot more hands to handle a task of this size. And it doesn't help that our esteemed Auror can't stay too long tomorrow."

Harry groans. "You guys head for the door, quietly, and I'll try and knock out a few Doxys. No way am I leaving that room like a coward who didn't do any damage."

"Alright, but don't linger for more than a minute," says Sirius, as he and Tonks silently creep down the staircase. Harry, however, quickly decides to give the drawing room one last go.

He steps into the room and casts a Freezing Charm followed by a Knockback Jinx. But his efforts only succeed in subduing a few of the pursuing Doxys nearby. He then ducks upon hearing a buzz to his right and quickly fires a Stunning Spell which misses its mark. Instead, it shatters the glass of a nearby cabinet which sends a collection of debris scattered across the room.

Among these are a Black family ring, some horrible-looking silver spiders, a vicious snuffbox, and a large, oval-shaped golden locket. Its green-jewelled, serpentine 'S' immediately catches Harry's eye. With Doxys converging on his position, Harry grabs the surprisingly heavy locket and sprints out the room while shutting the door.

"What's that you got there?" asks a curious Tonks, standing beside Harry on the first-floor landing.

"Some fancy locket; I dunno—" Harry jumps back in shock upon seeing a most dreadful-looking House Elf approaching him. "Who the...?"

"Go away and clean somewhere else, Kreacher!" says Tonks, whom the elf ignores upon speaking with Harry.

"The Half-Blood intruder dares to wear that locket? Kreacher demands it back right now! Wait, Kreacher thinks this is the boy who has stopped the Dark Lord. Kreacher wonders how he's done it, the filthy Half-Blood..."

"You're the one that's filthy," says Sirius, hurrying up the stairs as quietly as possible. "Now go downstairs and get out of my sight."

"Not until Master's godson returns that which had been entrusted to Kreacher."

To avoid waking up the screaming portrait, Harry pleads and just about earns himself a few hours with the locket. The fact that Harry's in Slytherin proves to be the sole reason for Kreacher allowing such leeway, although he demands that the locket be handed over upon Harry's return later on.

"If you're gonna be carrying fancy jewellery around, then hide it from the Muggles," whispers Tonks.

"You like my jewels, Dora?" Harry allows himself to be Transfigured before slipping on the locket and hiding it beneath his hoodie. "Let's go get some fucking food already."

"The hell?" Tonks glances quizzically at him. "Why are you so angry all of a sudden?"

Sirius scoffs while leading the way downstairs. "Who wouldn't be upset after being insulted by filth like Kreacher?"

They tiptoe to the door where Tonks silently Transfigures Sirius as the group heads out for some much-needed food tonight. And if any stupid Muggle gets in their way, Harry feels the urge to put them in their place; the filthy scoundrels.

 


	2. Birthdays and Boggarts

The sun has long since set as 10pm passes, but Harry, Tonks, and Sirius couldn't feel more refreshed today. The freedom of wandering around the streets near Grimmauld Place, through darkness lit by streetlights, and partial activity of night brings excitement.

"I feel like a drink, and a Muggle one at that," says Sirius, though reminding himself not to use that word out here.

"Heck yes!" agrees Harry, while feeling slightly on edge for some reason.

"That's my boy, there should be a few pubs around here, I reckon someone ought to be able to sell for off-premises—"

"Hey, as fun as that sounds, I can't have Harry drinking. Especially not with his birthday coming up tomorrow! You want people to see a 14 year old drunk? FOURTEEN?" asks Tonks, as the trio walk down yet another partially lit street.

"Come on Dora, live a little like your cousin. Never thought  _you'd_ be a spoilsport," says Sirius, while laughing with Harry.

"There's a difference between fun and risking my job as an Auror. Right now I gotta look after Harry, and probably you as well."

They continue walking down various roads, each looking quite similar in Harry's opinion. Flanked by many apartments, lit by streetlights, greenery cropping up every now and then, and the handfuls of Muggles walking about.

"Let's head to a club somewhere, I'd pay to see Tonks around a pole," says Harry, while seeing a slightly surprised look from Sirius.

"Whoa, calm down there," he replies, before Tonks seems to be looking at Harry in a strange way. This is followed by her grabbing him into a headlock as they walk, before giving a rough noogie.

"Such a rough Metamorphbabe," laughs Harry, while groaning in pain from the sensation of Tonks' knuckles across his scalp. Minutes of walking later, they finally reach a café near the corner of a street. Though Harry has no idea where exactly they are now. "Here's the dough."

"Sit down and be a good little birthday boy for the night, hmm?" Tonks takes the money handed over by Harry as they sit at a table facing the window.

"Hey, now that's a pretty bird," says a Muggle, somewhere behind Harry.

"Is it just blue on top?" another Muggle asks, referencing Tonks' hair colour. In response, she simply ignores them, before looking quizzically at Harry balling a fist.

"You alright there? Out here you get used to such remarks from Muggles. I don't let it get to me," mutters Tonks. But something seems to almost encourage the pang of jealousy building up within Harry. The locket around his neck now feeling rather snug beneath his clothing.

Eventually, a waitress comes over to take their orders as the trio settle upon a fair bit of food for the evening. And Sirius seems happier than ever to be away from his hated home. The transfiguration from earlier does its job in having changed him and Harry a fair bit, even if they're not truly at risk.

"Does the birthday baby need feeding?" Tonks grins while watching Harry eating the slowest of the trio. Meanwhile, Sirius has nearly finished and Tonks empties her plate before downing her cool drink.

"Take your time, Harry. I'm in no rush to go home," admits Sirius, while savouring the slight evening breeze in the café. Indeed, Harry finds himself eating at an extraordinarily slow pace, partly from delaying, but also from feeling strangely odd. His eyes constantly darting over to Tonks, in an almost paranoid manner.

"If you're gonna keep looking at me, at least  _try_  to not make it so obvious," she says. As the minutes pass by, Harry finally finishes his meal before Tonks pays and tips the waitress. The trio now leaving as 11pm approaches, and walking leisurely back towards Grimmauld.

"Let's have some fun, I say we throw someone's window in and run like hell!" says Sirius, to which Harry heartedly agrees. "And our gloves won't give the Muggles a clue."

"Oh my God, you're supposed to be his godfather. Fine, just once, now who's the victim?" The trio scrounge around the pavement and grassy areas for stones which they stash in their pockets. Harry asks about cameras, but it's clear that there are none around.

"Look at that car, whoops." Sirius takes aim before Harry and Tonks join in on hurling a few stones. The relative silence of the street soon filled with the unmistakable sound of shattered windows. And then blue lights flicker around a distant corner followed by a siren. "Cops!"

They sprint away, down many darkened streets before the patrol car finally reaches the scene of the vandalism. Harry's heart racing with excitement all the while. "Bloody brilliant, we outran the fuzz!"

"Don't forget about the cop standing right next to you," says Tonks, who mischievously turns her hair a darker shade of blue before grabbing him.

"What are you, hey, not fair—Ow!" Harry finds himself turned around, then bent over a nearby bench by Tonks, who mimics cuffing him. "Someone knows their Muggle stuff quite well."

"Department of Magical Law Enforcement, at your service." She remains holding him down, then repeatedly spanks his backside. "That's for causing unnecessary trouble out here. We're supposed to try and keep a low profile, better that way."

"Hey, you joined in too," says Sirius, before Tonks releases her hold on Harry. The latter now frowning upon seeing two suspicious-looking Muggles headed their way.

"Looks like trouble, stay here, I'll be back in a few." Sirius ducks around a nearby corner while Tonks and Harry find themselves being approached.

"What you hanging out with that little lad for? Ditch the brat and come party in the alley, babe," says one of the Muggles, a male who's probably a few years older than Tonks.

"We'll show you a real good time, blue hair," says the second Muggle. Both dressed rather poorly, and reeking of alcohol.

"Bunch of tramps, not worth our time. Let's just get out of here," mutters Tonks, while gently pulling Harry back.

"Hey, bitches. Nobody talks to my girl like that," says Harry, in a manner that surprises even himself. "Piss off, before this shoe goes up your arse!"

"What are you doing? You'll get yourself hurt out here. This ain't... you know. We can't use the  _M_  stuff here," says Tonks, while one of the tramps walks right up to, and shoves, Harry aside.

"Oh that's it, you Mug— idiots wanna fight? Come on!" Tonks raises her fists before punching Harry's attacker in the face, swiftly and efficiently. The tramp now face down on the ground.

"This one's a fighter, I like 'em wild—argh!" The second Muggle goes down from a kick to his leg by Harry.

"Nice work, but they're just a bunch of drunks. No need to do anything more." Tonks' words are ignored as Harry viciously begins kicking the downed Muggle repeatedly in his side. The latter hunched up in a foetal position on the pavement. After the twelfth kick, Harry steps back as the Muggle stands up and tackles him to the ground, before a large black dog leaps from the fence beside them.

Yelling in shock, the Muggle finds himself brought down by the transformed Sirius, before grabbing his friend. Both tramps hurriedly trying to get away, but not before Harry pulls out a stone. Taking aim, he hurls it forward and manages to hit one on the head while the Muggles flee down the road.

"You could've seriously injured him, no need for that," says Tonks, while Harry wishes he could do more than just that. "What's gotten into you tonight? Awfully violent eh? Perhaps we should head back home now."

They hurriedly make their way back down the dimly lit streets before finally reaching the hidden Black family home. With Dumbledore's Put-Outer still in his possession, Harry darkens the street before Tonks and Sirius enter. He then steps forward, releases the balls of light, and gently shuts the door behind them.

Before she can take a few steps, Tonks softly laughs as she's pulled away from the umbrella stand by Harry. Their humorous moment interrupted by the appearance of Kreacher right before them in the hallway. "Just give him that locket before he wakes up crazy Walburga," whispers Tonks.

"Fine." Harry wonders why it feels as if he's just lost something close to him upon taking off the golden locket. He places it on the ground before Kreacher swiftly snatches it up to probably stash away. The gradual return of Harry's usual cheer surprises him once the locket's gone.

"Shhh," whispers Sirius, back to his human self, as they tiptoe across the hallway and into the dining room. "What a lovely evening for us all. Ah, nothing like going for a meal and fending off lecherous drunks in the dead of night."

"And breaking the law, well, the Muggle one mostly," says Tonks, before looking at the smiling Harry. "And what's gotten you so happy all of a sudden?"

"I dunno, just feel so much better now," admits Harry, before Sirius laughs.

"Must be that delicious meal we just had. Tonks, take notes please."

"Oh excuse me? Just 'cos I'm the only woman around—"

"You're actually a man."

"—watch it, Harry! Or should I  _arrest_ you again?" Tonks narrows her eyes at him, before rolling up her sleeves and rubbing her palms together. Her mischievous grin both startling and exciting Harry. "Right, so with this trashpile being filthy as heck, where are we gonna spend the night?"

"I don't mind sleeping with you," says Harry, before winking at Tonks. "Not what you might be thinking."

"The bedrooms are a no-go at this point. I just curled up on this table for last night," says Sirius.

"You know what? This godson of yours is never ever gonna stop being a flirt. Might as well calm his hormones." Tonks soon decides to transfigure a few seats in the dining room to a couch. Then she gives Harry a thorough bit of Cleaning Charms before doing herself.

"I'll just be up here on the table, no funny business, alright?" Sirius transforms into his dog form before curling up on the table.

Harry soon heads for his trunk, laying farther down the table, to retrieve his pyjamas while Sirius falls asleep. And seeing as Tonks had already seen him in the showers last year anyway, he casually gets changed right before the amused woman.  _"Scourgify."_ She manages to clean his casual wear off a fair bit before folding them up and heading for the couch.

Tonks soon lays across it with Harry right against her. "There, now don't go getting any funny dreams, birthday boy. I'll set up a few spells to keep the pests off this couch, just in case."

"Nothing like cuddling up with an old lady—just joking! Don't pull the hair... Ow!"

"Night night, and I'll try not to have the bugs bite. Sleep little baby," she says, before Harry finds himself dozing off in no time at all.

Something seems to be pulling gently on his hair, and Tonks' voice whispering in his ear. "Wake up already. Hey, Harry, would you mind waking up before the others get here? Or do you want to lay facing the door with your broomstick trying to break free of those trousers?"

"Ugh..." Harry sees his vision clear as his glasses are slipped on by a violet-haired Tonks. "I see a vivacious violet vixen right above me."

"Oh look, the pervert's awake. Now then, how about getting up and walking around? Better calm that Beater's bat before our guests arrive."

"Guests? For what? Who?"

"Your birthday, silly! It's the end of July, so get ready for some celebration. And lots of housecleaning once Mrs. Weasley sees the state of this place," says Tonks, before sitting Harry up and trying to neaten his hair with her hands.

"Don't bother, that's a lost cause right there. But good ol' grandpa Fleamont got us Potters sorted. No need to stress about it. I, uh, didn't do anything questionable in my sleep, did I?" asks Harry, to which Tonks smiles.

"You missed your chance, shame. Well, I'm gonna be heading outside to keep watch for our first visitors before sunrise. I know you're still sleepy but... it's your birthday!" Tonks tiptoes through the hallway, changes her appearance a fair bit, and then heads outside.

"I really hope they don't ring the doorbell," says Sirius, before explaining how it triggers the usual response from his mother's portrait.

"Man, I'm getting hungry here."

"Hopefully our guests would have brought food, or should I go order us some take-aways? Anything to get out this house," says Sirius.

"I'm starting to run low on Muggle money, but a few quid should get the three of us something to nibble on." Harry scratches around his trunk and finds a decent amount of money. "Try not to draw attention, or else Dumbledore might restrict your trips."

Sirius dons a cap, transfigures himself a slight bit, then heads out to order some food. Nearly half an hour later, the door opens as he returns with a fair bit of food for the trio. "Tonks can have hers later but I'm starving, let's dig in."

"Finally, some food around here," says Harry, as the pair ravenously dig into their breakfasts. Their meal finished just in time to hear a crashing sound in the hallway. "That must be Tonks, darn it!" Wasting no time, Harry sprints out the dining room and into the hallway. The blood-curdling screams making him hardly see the group of visitors coming down the hallway, as Walburga's portrait spots Harry.

"GET OUT OF THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS! YOU FILTHY HALF-BREED SCUM! HOW DARE YOU BESMIRCH THE NAME OF SLYTHERIN! FILTHY HALF-BREED! OUT! OUT! GET OUT!"

While Tonks hurriedly calms and explains to the gasping visitors about the portrait, Harry folds his arms and stands facing Walburga. "Shut up, and kiss my arse."

"FILTH UPON THIS WORLD! A DISGRACE TO SALAZAR'S HOUSE! A HALF-BREED IN SLYTHERIN? SCUM! SCUM! SCUM! LEAVE!"

And now Sirius races out of the dining room, his expression highly annoyed. "Would you just SHUT IT already? FOREVER screaming the same thing over and over and over and over again. Miserable old HAG! Let's get her shut!"

"Man, why is this always so darn difficult?" asks Harry, as he and Sirius battle through terrible screaming to finally shut the moth-eaten curtains.

"This way," whispers Tonks, who leads Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron to the dining room. Once clear of the hallway, they immediately express their shock at Grimmauld Place. Both its obvious dark-wizard look and incredibly filthy state draw much comments, especially the latter from Mrs. Weasley. Harry, though soon finds himself being grabbed into hugs by Ginny and Hermione.

"Look at you and your big and fancy, but filthy, house!" says a giggling Ginny.

"Thanks for writing, was pretty fun indeed," adds Hermione.

"Sorry about the portrait, Sirius' mother gets quite feisty in having people like us around here," says Harry jokingly.

"Harry! Oh poor dear this place looks far too filthy for you to be staying," says Mrs. Weasley, as everyone takes their seats at the table. "Where's the house elf?"

"Don't bother with that, seriously. Waste of time. But now that we're all here, let's give Harry his first birthday away from the Dursleys." Sirius' statement elicits much congratulations from all, before Harry finds himself either shaking hands or hugging everyone around the room.

"Nice place, though it'll be a heck of a mission to clean up," admits Fred.

"At least you can do magic here, trust us, that makes a hell of a difference," says George. The group now laughing as Mrs. Weasley admonishes Sirius and Tonks for not having started any form of cleaning. Before any celebrations can take place, Mrs. Weasley has them spending the rest of the morning trying to decontaminate the dining room.

"This place is mental, are those  _spiders_? Look at them!" Ron jumps back in horror upon seeing just what comes out from around the room.

"Come on, Ronald, we need everyone's hands here. Fine, we'll deal with the spiders and you sort whatever else you can out," says Harry.

"Mum, when can we show Harry his birthday cake?"

"I refuse to have any celebrations in such  _filth_. It will have to wait for later, Ginny."

Tonks declares that she needs to head for work soon, and is excused from the tremendous amount of chores. But seeing the interaction between Harry, Hermione and Ginny has her grinning rather slyly. "Catch you later, birthday boy," she says, before walking over and grabbing Harry into a tight hug. As expected, the girls soon retaliate by dumping more chores on him.

By the end of the day, after much cleaning and repairing around the room, and destruction of the family china, Harry's birthday party finally gets underway. He reckons there's a first time for everything, and this only serves to show him how much he's missed out. At some point Dumbledore arrives to wish Harry, as well as having the Put-Outer returned.

"Looks like we spent much of your birthday cleaning up, that sucks," says Ginny, as evening arrives and the first floor bedroom partially cleaned.

"Doesn't matter, because at least I actually got a proper birthday party. Means a lot to me, girls, seriously," admits Harry, while helping Hermione decontaminate the bedroom furniture.

"I guess we weren't sure what to get you, since you always get gifts from those Slytherin friends too. But I thought you might appreciate something Quidditch-related. You know, with the World Cup already underway," says Hermione, while slightly smiling.

"Much appreciated, but really, anything nice would suffice. Just getting me sweets and stuff would be okay too," admits Harry.

"My birthday's coming up in August, just so you know," says Ginny excitedly.

"You, Millicent and Daphne. What a busy month for me, hope you don't mind helping with gifts?"

"Might as well," replies Hermione, before Ron comes into the room.

"I've checked out the other bedrooms and I swear, one of them has this empty portrait that sniggers quite a lot. Heard a few sarcastic comments from whoever that is too."

"Until we get that cleaned up, I guess you can sleep on the floor here, Ronald."

"Harry!" scolds Hermione, before swatting him on the arm, "No need to be rude."

"I'm just stating the facts, unless he wants to sleep in a room that might have spiders the size of saucers?"

Ron gasps, "On second thought, I'll stay here for the night. Should be able to throw something on the ground, I guess."

"I seriously do not want to sleep in a room with a portrait able to watch me, come on, that's just weird. Can't I stay here?" asks Harry.

"Sure! Make yourself at home—oh, wait," giggles Ginny, though Ron objects to the idea of Harry sleeping in the same bed as his sister.

"As soon as mum's satisfied that this place is cleaned up, most of us are heading back home. Preferably before the Final. So that gives us around 3 weeks to clean this mental house. Did you all see those shrunken house elf heads along the stairs? What the hell?"

Ron's comment brings murmurs of agreement, and a saddened look from Hermione who speaks, "Utterly barbaric. And I'm quite sorry anyone has to put up with that screaming portrait."

The rest of the week sees everyone pitching in to clean as much of the house as they can. With the dining room, hallway, and first floor bedrooms cleaned up, there is still much more to be done. Harry's second week at Grimmauld has them tackling the drawing room, in which they finally spray and get rid of the doxies. And after a full day of cleaning more than simple dirt, all that's left in the drawing room is the rattling desk. As promised, he also makes sure to buy Ginny something nice for her birthday. The occasion also celebrated here in Grimmauld. But soon after, more days of chores pass by as Mrs. Weasley fervently tries cleaning up as much as possible.

"Psst, wanna come deal with a boggart? I'll show you how," whispers Harry late one night, while laying on a few blankets on the floor beside Ginny's bed. She turns on her side, smiles, then gives a nod. With most of the house quiet and fast asleep, they sneak to the drawing room before shutting its door. "Boggarts work on your greatest fears, and the way to defeat them is to cast  _Riddikulus_  while thinking of something funny. Laughter beats any boggart."

Ginny nods, though not without giggling, "Yes, Professor Potter, sir." The statement earning her a light punch to the shoulder.

"I think I know what form yours will take, so, you ready?" asks Harry, while standing beside the locked desk. Ginny nods before Harry casts  _Alohomora_ , and then she stands with wand in hand. A black book comes flying out the desk, landing squarely on the ground. Then a young man appears to stand atop it.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle, just like I thought," mutters Harry, before Ginny's eyes widen in fear. Her breathing increases as she backs away, shaking her head. "It's just a boggart. Don't let it get to you."

Seeing the struggling Ginny causes Harry to step between her and the boggart. It gives him one look before the book disappears, and Tom smiles. Round glasses appear on his face, a lightning scar on his forehead, and his eyes become green. The meaning of Harry's boggart seems clear as day to Ginny, who gasps.

"But I don't fear this anymore, why do all you boggarts keep on doing this to me?" Before he can fire his spell, Harry sees his Riddle-like self disappear and transform into a dementor. "Now this is more like it."

From behind him, Ginny screams once more, and Harry reckons she's being affected just like last year. So loud is her scream that Walburga wakes up, who in turn screams the entire house awake.

"BLOOD-TRAITORS! ABOMINATIONS! SLEEPING IN THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS!"

"What the  _hell_ is going on around here?" asks Sirius, who can be heard racing down the staircase while the others gather nearby.

Ron's voice is heard next from outside the drawing room, "Where's Ginny? And where's Potter? What are they up to at this hour?"

"MAKE IT STOP," shouts Ginny, which immediately causes the drawing room door to be barged open by Ron, with Hermione and Tonks behind.

"I'm supposed to be getting my sleep before work tomorrow, what the hec—" Tonks' sentence is cut short by seeing the dementor hovering in the room before Harry, while Ginny stands against the far wall. Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, and Mr. Weasley immediately race over towards Ginny, who speaks in a shaky voice.

"We thought we could take the b-boggart, in the desk."

Before his mother's screams grow too loud in his head, Harry thinks up the happiest memory he can.  _"Expecto Patronum!"_

"Wait, Harry, that's a boggart, don't waste your time...wicked!" Sirius and the rest of the room watch, incredulously, as a few metres' worth of silver serpent bursts forth from Harry's wand. A plain and simple snake, but potent enough to strike at the dementor and push it back towards the desk.

"Quit showing off, man! Do what Professor Lupin taught us last year," says an annoyed Ron, rubbing his eyes and yawning. But before Harry can cast the boggart-banishing spell, it retreats back into the desk.

"Brilliant stuff there, Harry!" says Mr. Weasley. "But perhaps we should just lock that desk and deal with the boggart some other time? We all need our sleep tonight."

Slowly they file out the room, while the topic remains on Harry's rather impressive handling of a Patronus. Nobody speaks in the hallway, since it had been difficult enough to shut the portrait up yet again. Meanwhile, Harry walks over and apologizes to Ginny, who shakes her head. "I'll do better next time,  _Professor._ "

" _Professor_? Am I missing something here?" asks an amused Hermione, while standing beside Tonks, who whispers.

"I think he just wanted to show her his snake, the Patronus I mean."

"Why couldn't this be done in the morning? Thanks for ruining our sleep," sighs Ron, before heading off towards the bedroom once more.

"Sorry, I wanted to show Ginny how to deal with a boggart," says Harry.

"At this hour?" Tonks glances suspiciously at the two of them, "You're lucky to have made such an impression with that Patronus. Otherwise, everyone would've given you a firm scolding for waking us up, now go sleep,  _snake boy_."

While exiting the room, Harry hears Ginny whispering about the boggart to Hermione, who suddenly stops at the bedroom entrance. "Harry..."

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

She gives him a look of both surprise and disbelief. "Did you... lie to Lupin in the exams? I mean, tell a 'confession' that was actually a lie in itself?"

"Finally got it figured out, huh? Yeah I did, for my pretty bushy-haired friend who messed up with her boggart-McGonagall. Just accept that I practically halved my mark for your sake, and move on. Now, I'm gonna get back to sleep," replies Harry, who climbs into his makeshift bed on the floor as Ginny giggles.

"He really is mental, I tell you."


	3. Setting up for the Final

_The Black Family Home, August 23rd, 1994._

Harry jolts up in bed, his breathing heavy and pyjamas rather drenched in sweat. He slips on his glasses while his scar, shaped to the wand movements of the Killing Curse, burns uncomfortably. The bedroom seems fairly well lit from the sun shining in through the windows, and the house fairly lively. It takes a moment to compose himself and gather his thoughts while sitting on the edge of his bed. Looking behind, Harry spots Ron already having left the room, before the empty portrait on the wall speaks in a rather sly voice.

"Slytherins should start their day early, you know."

"Whatever." Harry has heard enough sniggering and sarcastic remarks from this empty portrait over the past few days to last a lifetime. Ever since they had managed to clean out this room he has shared it, somewhat reluctantly, with Ron. Although he'd far prefer to share with the girls. Once dressed in simple casual wear, Harry exits the room and stands at the banisters overlooking the entrance.

"Wotcher, little Slytherin," greets Tonks from the hallway downstairs. Though soon expressing her regret at doing so as a pair of nearby curtains fly open.

"FILTH UPON THIS PLACE, CHILD BORN OF MUGGLE LOINS! AN INSULT TO THIS HOUSE!"

"Somebody help me shut this bitch up," calls Tonks, in a more annoyed than angry manner. From his view over the banisters, Harry decides to view the scene of Mrs. Weasley, and Tonks, battling the curtains as entertainment. The former now softly scolding the latter at making a noise in the hallway, before beckoning Harry to come eat. With the nearby bathrooms already cleaned for use, he gets himself freshened up before softly heading downstairs. The memories of what he has just dreamt about last night refusing to go away, even as he greets those sitting around the table.

"What's wrong? Why are you sitting like that at the table?" asks Sirius, while looking towards Harry sitting with head in hands.

"Just a bad dream." Harry's response is met with a snort from Hermione seated beside him.

"Define:  _bad_?"

"Oh shoosh, man," replies Harry, who carries on eating breakfast before the rest of the day is spent squeezing in whatever chores they can. With the Quidditch Final coming up in just two days, and still most of the third floor needing work, they push on. "Ugh, I'm so over these chores already."

While cleaning out a mouldy cupboard, Ginny overhears Harry's complaint and throws a comment. "Not my fault your house is a dump!"

"Look who's talking!" Harry laughs, though clearly without malice as Ginny takes it in stride. Hermione passes by the humorous insults while wearing thick gloves and carrying filthy old debris. "You alright there, Miss Granger?"

"Are you bored?" Hermione stops behind to briefly look at him, "Clearly you're bored."

"Why so quiet, Ronald?" asks Harry, now deciding to bother Ron who's dragging out boxes of rotten wood across the third floor landing.

"Mum's gonna keep us home for the Final if this place isn't  _suitably habitable_  by tomorrow, so lemme work in peace!"

With only Ginny working on one spot, Harry decides to bother her some more. "Whew, smells dirty in here, and I'm not talking about the cupboard."

In response, he sees Ginny raise her hand before flinging bits of soapy water across his face. "For your information, your nose is on top of your mouth." The statement causes an amused Harry to dip his hand into the bucket beside her. With soap on his hands, Harry now flings some against Ginny's cheek. "I'm too busy to be immature," she quips.

"Oh lookie here, the little Gryffindor Seeker is getting more mature by the day. Aww, isn't she adorable?" Harry nudges her aside before assisting with the remaining bits of scrubbing. It soon becomes a game of Ginny pushing Harry aside to scrub, before he returns the gesture. But after nearly an hour, the cupboard looks—and certainly smells—all but pristine. "I think we make a decent team."

"But I'm still better," says Ginny, who picks up the bucket, sticks out her tongue at Harry, then heads downstairs. The latter now casts a spell to unlock a bathroom on the third floor before he jumps back in fright.

"WHAT THE HELL?"

Something moves from within the sizable bathroom, and Harry soon sees an exceptionally hostile ghoul coming at him. Though most are fairly docile, this old one seems murderous indeed. Harry's raised voice soon attracts the attention of Hermione cleaning nearby.

While the rest make their way up the stairs, Harry draws his wand and takes aim at the oncoming ghoul.  _"Everte Statum!"_ The flash of orange sends the ghoul flying through the air to crash against a sink. But it simply gets up and starts tossing broken debris out the room. Harry just about steps aside, but only for all manner of items to hit the wall behind him, causing a ruckus indeed.

"FILTHY BLOOD TRAITO—"

Ignoring the commotion of Walburga two floors down, Harry steps into the doorway and hurriedly fires off a few more jinxes. Hermione gasps upon seeing the sudden fight playing out as the vicious ghoul has its legs struck by a spell. "Goddamnit, this thing is crazy! Okay, that's it, when the going gets tough...  _Avada Keda_ —OW!"

The smack on Harry's head is followed by a coarse whisper as Hermione admonishes him. "Don't you  _dare_  use that spell again, and I don't care if you can't really cast an effective one. It was bad enough when you killed that acromantula in the forest. Here, let me help you."

"Heck yes, Miss Bushy-Know-It-All helps her  _King of Slytherin_ ," laughs Harry, while using his self-proclaimed title. Though it's usually seen as a mere joke by most, including himself. He now flings spells side-by-side with Hermione for a nearly half an hour before they finally subdue the ghoul upon the ground. "I'm gonna kill it now."

"Wait, Harry—"

"This thing ain't like an ordinary ghoul. Look at it, vicious as heck. This'll be more of a threat than anything out there,  _Bombarda_!" The small explosion blasts the ghoul to bits before the twins come racing up the stairs.

"Whoa, remind us not to let Harry near our house ghoul. But if it's too insanely murderous then I guess what's done is done," says Fred, to which George nods in agreement.

"I suppose we can clean this all up and fix the bathroom a bit, yeah."

"Thanks guys." Harry looks from the twins to Hermione standing behind him. "You alright?"

"Fine thank you," she replies firmly before letting out a sigh. "I guess you didn't really have a choice. That was an exceptionally violent ghoul for its kind, just like you."

"Oh you did  _not_  just say that!"

Hermione stands against the nearby banister on the third floor, then folds her arms. "I sure did, what are you going to do? Hmm?"

Regardless of her bushy hair and buck teeth drawing insults from other students, Harry has always found Hermione attractive. And though he's been rude to her for most of their first two years at school, there's been a change of heart since her petrification.

"How about I lean us both over the banisters? If you know what I mean." He puts on an air of smugness but knows that Hermione's always seen him as when they first met. The little boy sitting in the train compartment without any friends yet.

"Oh please, I might just  _accidentally_  tip you right over me if you tried your luck. Nothing to say in return, oh mighty  _King_?" asks Hermione, with a playful grin on her face. The ensuing silence on Harry's part only serves to have her remain smiling, before both continue with their chores. By the day's end, most of the Black family home has finally been cleaned up, except for the boggart.

As Harry descends the stairs, he hears Ginny speaking in the dining room. "Mum, Pigwidgeon dropped off a letter from home. Looks like the other three are beginning to pack up for the trip."

"Thank you, Ginny. I suppose I should be heading back tonight to make sure everything's in order for you all."

Harry soon walks into a conversation involving Ginny wondering why Mrs. Weasley wouldn't be joining them, seeing as there are enough tickets for all. "I think your mother deserves some peace and rest after all this work," says Harry, earning himself a big hug of agreement from Mrs. Weasley.

"Where'd you get your tickets from anyway?" asks Ginny, while looking up at Harry, who's slightly taller than her.

"Sirius and I both got ours from Pansy Parkinson's mother. You do know who's Pansy, right?"

Ginny nods, "Duh, how can I not? We've met a few times, and you were right there. In case you've forgotten or think I'm lying, she's about your height, with black bob hair, and sorta green eyes."

"Okay! Man, no need to get so technical about it. Yeah, I remember now that you've met her with me," says Harry, while Mrs. Weasley eyes him worriedly.

"I do hope Sirius keeps an eye on you, dear. I'm not going to insult your choice of friends but do be careful around them."

"Yes, ma'am, I know. No need to remind me about Pansy's mother being a Death Eater. Already know all about that. Plus, I'm pretty sure Tonks and the other Aurors will be there to deal with any incidents."

"Right you are, Harry," says Tonks, who's seated at the table. "Want me to hold your hand too? Tuck you in and sing you to sleep? Feed you baby food as well?" Her comments bring a slight blush to Harry, while Ginny makes no effort to hide her giggling.

"Not funny." Harry waits for Mrs. Weasley to resume her activities around the house before he grabs Ginny to perform a noogie on her head. She elbows him hard enough to break free, while Tonks laughs at Harry barely giving a proper one to a girl. "Feisty little Seeker, aren't you?"

Ginny looks up in triumph before walking out the room and heading towards the staircase in the hallway. Meanwhile, Harry sees Tonks looking at him with a smile. "She really likes you, and more than just in a buddy-buddy way."

"I know that."

"Well, good luck choosing between her and Hermione one day. Catfight imminent indeed," says Tonks, before Sirius enters the room.

"Oh, there sure are more girls out there that he hangs out with, I've seen it myself last year. That's James right there for you, even Remus said it."

The name suddenly makes Harry smile, "Is Lupin coming to the Final? He's gotta come!"

"No, he isn't much for big crowds really. I've already asked him numerous times, even offered to buy him a ticket."

Harry's heart immediately sinks as, even though Lupin's secret remains unknown to most, he still prefers his solitude. "Well at least get him to come visit here one day."

"Frankly speaking, I don't plan on spending too many days cooped up in here either. Might as well go out and explore London a bit again. Just like the old days," says Sirius, to which Tonks warns him to be forever on his guard. "Yes, yes, dear Auror. No need to fuss over your cousin like that."

"Professor Dumbledore wouldn't want this placed discovered, though I'm not sure why he's so touchy over it. Best not to disappoint him," says Tonks.

With weeks' worth of housecleaning finally over and one Quidditch Final nearing on the night of the 25th, the Weasleys, and Hermione, all return to the Burrow. Tonks leaves early, stating that she needs to be at the campsite with her colleagues. This leaves just Sirius and Harry at the Black family home.

"According to what Pansy's said, there's a  _Portkey_  right about here." Harry pulls out an old map of London's surroundings and points to a precise location in a country park to its northeast. "Should be about over an hour's worth of catching cabs and stuff. Well it's either that or travel all the way to Dartmoor by cars."

Sirius laughs, "From here? That's crazy! Well it's too bad that my Apparition skills have gotten way too rusty over the years. You do know what that is, right?"

Harry shakes his head, "Not really, I don't know everything."

"Sometimes I feel that you do, but anyway..." Sirius explains what he knows about Apparition and Disapparition, including the risks, notably splinching.

"Wait a minute." Harry looks up, and suddenly smiles brightly.

"What's up?"

"If we can wake up super early tomorrow then why don't I just fly us there? Think about all the Muggle inconveniences we can bypass!" Harry beams with pride in having considered the opportunity to personally fly his godfather around. "We don't even have much stuff to carry anyway, 'cos we can alternate between my friends and the Weasleys' tents."

"Genius, Harry! I'll lighten our rucksacks, then we'll leave in the dark. Time to experience the legendary Prongs flying skills on a Firebolt," says Sirius. He then heads to the bedroom to cast a good couple Charms over their rucksacks.

With Sirius busy upstairs, Harry retrieves and readies his Firebolt for tomorrow morning. He's gotten a basic idea of the World Cup's location as being near a park owned by Muggles in the area of Dartmoor. The plan is to leave early, on the 24th, to hopefully give him an extra day with any friends in the area. After heading to bed surprisingly early tonight, Harry and Sirius get around seven hours sleep before waking up. With the sun set to rise in approximately three hours, they hurriedly freshen up and eat whatever leftovers remain.

"Just over two hours until sunrise, think we can make it on a broom?" asks Sirius, to which Harry consults the Muggle map laid open on the table.

"I'm no math genius, but it seems that from here to Dartmoor is about... over 300 kilometres. Well, according to what I heard Jordan say in Quidditch, the Firebolt does 0-150 miles per hour in ten seconds..."

"Miles are bigger than kilometres I think, oh forget the math. I'm pretty sure we'll get there in time," says Sirius.

"I wonder where everyone is at the campsite now? Would've been handy to have a Marauder's Map of Dartmoor."

"Hey, I know where this conversation is going. Sorry, not letting slip how we made that map of school."

"I understand,  _Padfoot_. Well, let's put on our rucksacks and mount the Firebolt. I'll try not to fly too fast," says Harry, before exiting the house with rucksacks, tickets, and Firebolt at the ready. Before taking off, they cross the street to enter the park opposite through its gate. Using the cover of a cloudy night sky, everyone fast asleep around them, and no traffic at all, they immediately mount the broom.

Seconds later sees Harry kicking off to the skies, undetected, while Sirius tries his best to guide them across the city and eventually countryside. The thrill of being on a broom once more has him absolutely ecstatic now, and more than a few times he calls Harry by his middle name.

"That's it! We're heading southwest now I believe, step on it, James!"

"It's bloody cold up here, how the hell did you swim across the cold sea from Azkaban?" asks Harry, as the freezing wind hits him in the face. Its loud rush through their ears means practically shouting to hold a mere conversation.

"Just kept thinking about Wormtail, and it was all worth it in the end! Turn left a bit, I think that ought to put us on a straight line to Dartmoor," replies Sirius, before Harry apologizes upon flying into the clouds.

"We're gonna get soaked I know, but it's better than breaking the law of Secrecy! Hopefully we won't get struck by lightning up here."

"Yeah, one scar's enough on your head I guess."

"Very funny, Sirius."

"Push it, Prongs, my deranged mother could fly faster than this!"

"What?" Harry laughs before leaning closer and speeding up the Firebolt. Its sheer speed already surpassing terminal velocity a slight bit. "Good thing they added all these safety Charms or else we'd go flying off like dolls up here."

Although over an hour soon passes, the trip flies by for Harry as they soon dip below the clouds. "World Cup? You ought to be in there, Harry! Show 'em who's the best Quidditch player in the whole world."

"I suppose I can steal a few tips from the Chasers and Seekers today, use it to my advantage. These losers ain't got anything on Harry James Potter of Slytherin."

"Atta boy!"

Harry flies lower, then stops to behold a magnificent sight of the largest stadium he's ever seen. Although it be miles away at the far end of a massive patch of wood, it's easily seen from high in the skies. "Man, I love magic."

"It never ceases to amaze how we manage to keep all this hidden from Muggles. I can only imagine the immense amount of work put in by the Ministry," says Sirius, while seated behind Harry as they hover beneath darkened skies. And soon they begin to descend, then land upon a deserted moor. Mist clouding much of their surrounding view as Harry and Sirius soon walk across the field to a pair of wizards inexpertly dressed as Muggles.

"Well, I'll be damned. If ain't the once notorious and now redeemed Sirius Black himself. And Harry Potter too?  _Unbelievable_ ," says the wizard dressed in a tweed suit with thigh length galoshes. His colleague dressed in a kilt and poncho.

"We're here to join up with a tent, Parkinson family. Got two tickets," says Sirius.

"Hmm not pitching up your own tents, eh? Fair enough. Alright, Parkinson... Parkinson..." The kilted wizard consults a lengthy bit of parchment, "About over a quarter mile's walk in that direction. Past the first field. Since you're not booking a site, you can bypass the Muggle manager, Mr. Roberts."

Harry's Firebolt soon catches the pair's attention, drawing whistles. "You looking to play or spectate with that there broom? Anyway, head on in, and try to keep out of sight with that thing. Otherwise we're gonna have to have Roberts  _Obliviated_  for the umpteenth time already. Doesn't help that Bagman keeps talking about Quidditch stuff in the open."

"Who's Bagman?" asks Harry, to which the tweed-suited wizard responds.

"Ludo Bagman, Head of Magical Games and Sports, and quite lax about security too. But he was a decent Quidditch player back in the day, and a fairly good commentator these days. Just wish he'd shut up in front of the Muggles already."

Harry and Sirius soon make their way through the early morning mist, and sneak into the campsite undetected by Mr. Roberts. "Well, aren't we famous?" laughs Sirius, upon seeing the stares directed their way as they pass by various tents of all sizes.

A few appear to be fairly ordinary, but then Harry spots some resembling miniature castles, spas, palaces, and all manner of styles. "It's no wonder the Roberts Muggles get suspicious after awhile, look at these showoffs! Are people always like this at international events?"

"Don't ask me, I've been out of the loop for over a decade, remember? Not like the dementors kept me up to date with worldly events," says Sirius nonchalantly.

Soon, a strangely familiar voice speaks from behind them, one which Harry just knows he's heard somewhere. "Oh, pardon me but I'm just a little lost Muggle."

Harry spins around, and all but shouts in disbelief. "H-Holly Nates? What are you doing here? I... oh crap. Sirius, there's a Muggle in the campsite, I know this girl! The Statute of Secrecy is at risk—"

"What? Where? Who? Wait a minute. Harry, Muggles don't know that they're called Muggles," says Sirius firmly.

The girl with long brunette hair, and blue eyes now starts laughing. "You're so witty and 'smart'... but sometimes  _painfully_  silly. You ever hear of Polyjuice? Or did you forget what this Potion can do, in the hands of certain people like GRANGER sneaking into the common room?"

"You know Hermione? 'Common room', 'Polyjuice', hold on..."

Holly Nates folds her arms, sighs impatiently, then taps her foot while waiting, "When is that light bulb going to go on upstairs? Do I have to outright say that Holly Nates never existed? But somebody needed company over last summer, Potter boy."

Harry immediately looks at Holly, his expression amazed, "P-Pansy?!"

Throwing her arms up in the air, the girl practically shouts, "FINALLY HE GETS IT! She's been giving you so many clues, but nooooooo the sharpest tool in the shed was surprisingly blunt on occasion." The girl tilts her head with an overly sweet smile.

"Well, things just got interesting. Looks like your pal, and probably her mother, knows where you live," says Sirius, rather worriedly.

"Oh relax, Mr. Long Hair with Moustache, we're not gonna hurt Harry Potter or anything. The Dark Lord is gone, probably so weak that he's unable to do anything at the moment. Now hurry along and I'll show you to the campsite," says the girl, who's just about Harry's height.

"But, Pansy, whose essence did you use for the Potion?"

"Shhhhh, follow me." 'Holly' leads the pair through rows of decorative tents and towards a spot marked with the sign named PARKINSON. They now appear to be near the edge of the wood, somewhere to the right of the field. "The stadium's past this wood. Plenty of folks are grateful to be this close, including us. Oh, by the way, there's a spot marked WEEZLY to the far left, probably a kilometre, of us. Guess your friends will be setting up there when they arrive."

The tent seems to resemble a little suburban home, and Harry has been told by Sirius that it should be a lot bigger inside. "Well, um, before your mom comes out and gets suspicious, Pansy, lemme hug you real good," says Harry.

"Oh dear—" 'Holly' is pulled into a tight hug by Harry, who kisses her on the cheek, before he holds her close for awhile. "Awkward indeed, little boy."

"Yes, VERY awkward indeed," says a laughing Pansy, now standing at the tent's entrance. And even Sirius can't help but express his amusement.

"Wait...WHAT?" Harry looks from the amused Pansy, to 'Holly' standing before him. Both girls seemingly the same height. "But if you're there then who's this? I thought you Polyjuiced into Holly Nates last year?"

Pansy nods, while now red-faced from laughing, "I did! That was me in the park. But mom thought it'd be funny to joke around a bit, and we decided to steal one more bit of hair from the Muggle girl living near us."

"So I just hugged and kissed your mom now?" Harry looks down in sheer embarrassment before speaking, "Oh my God, please promise to  _never_  do this ever again. Polyjuice Potion is the weirdest thing ever invented!"

"It's annoying to brew and personally I don't find it comfortable at all," says Pansy. "We had to get a distant cousin from France to brew it. Now how about we all head inside and wait for mom to turn back to normal?"

"So, you've gone from evil to prankster over the last few years?" asks Sirius, while looking down at the girl who's Mrs. Parkinson.

"Oh shut up," replies the girl, as they head inside the tent which ends up being a four bedroom flat. "One for each of us, now we each have our privacy. Pansy, go make sure your friend is settled in."

Pansy walks past her mother, and smiles, "Why should I take orders from a girl around my age? You're not scary now."

"Pansy..."

"Okay! I was just joking, so lemme show you to your rooms." She leads Harry through the front door, and into a small living room connected to the kitchen. From here Pansy shows Sirius to a door to the far left of the room, while Harry's is to the far right. The entire house, save for the bathroom, seems to be lined with hardwood flooring. Pansy's room appears to be the immediate door on their left and her mother's to the right of the front entrance.

"Each room has its own little bathroom, so no need to be sharing and trying to walk in on each other. I'm looking at you, Pansy, trying to sneak a peek of your friend."

"Mom! Don't embarrass me like that," says Pansy, as her mother goes to her own bedroom. "I guess she'll be turning back soon. We've only been here for about two hours now."

"How'd you guys get in like this? Two youngsters I mean?" asks Harry.

"Oh don't worry, that's where my cousin, Alyssa, came in. She's pitched up her tent with her parents and some friends a fair distance away."

"Oh by the way," the Polyjuiced Mrs. Parkinson speaks from behind her opened bedroom door. "No magic allowed here whatsoever, don't forget that. The Ministry won't allow us to cast magic because there's such a huge concentration of folks around Muggle territory."

"Your mother as a Muggle teenager is still darn weird," admits Sirius, while looking at Pansy. "Maybe she has changed a fair bit, I suppose I can give her a slight chance. Or maybe she's waiting to strike us all down, evil never lets up."

"I heard that, Black!"

The house of four finds themselves resting for a bit, before Mrs. Parkinson steps out of her room an hour later. Her appearance back to being slightly taller than Sirius, and a stern look on her face, though not without the occasional slight smile.

"Ah, now there's a qualified Death Eater if I ever saw one," remarks Sirius, while sitting on an armchair in the lounge, his feet atop a coffee table.

"And there's an escaped convict if I ever saw one." Mrs. Parkinson pulls her dark hair back into a bun before eventually watching Pansy exiting her room. "Shall we head outside and, ugh, cook like Muggles?"

"Yeah it's bad enough that more than one Ministry official has walked past our tent already. Might as well not give them reason to fine you," says Pansy, who pulls open a nearby drawer to grab a box of matches.

"Count me in," says Sirius, before all four eventually find themselves in the patch of space near the front of their tent. "You despise them, Parkinson, but you sure know how to dress like them."

Dressed in a jersey, jeans, and boots, Mrs. Parkinson scoffs, "Need to know the enemy. Now how about we get this fire going? If all else fails, I'll whip out a spell."

"I think I remember how to do all this," says Harry, while standing beside Mrs. Parkinson, metres to the right of their tent.

"Come on, Harry, show your Muggle side and help us cook a meal," orders Pansy, before the next hour is spent preparing and serving food made over the campfire.


	4. A Walk Around the Campsite

The combined efforts of Harry, Pansy, and Sirius have gotten a fire going, sufficient enough to cook themselves breakfast. But Pansy seems to be having a bit too much fun with the matches as she accidentally drops more than a few right at her feet. "Aaa! I'm gonna burn!"

Harry leaps up from his stool to grab Pansy away from the burst of flames at her feet, but is outmanoeuvred by her mother. To his utter bewilderment, Mrs. Parkinson immediately disappears in a black, smoke-like manner before reappearing to grab her daughter and leap over the flames.

"What did I tell you about not messing around with matches here?" Mrs. Parkinson has Harry douse the flames before Pansy speaks.

"And what did I tell you about not disapparating like  _that_ , mom? You're supposed to do it the normal way, not like that anymore," scolds Pansy, before lowering her gaze once glared at by her mother.

"Doesn't matter, you could've hurt yourself now. Not like these Ministry folks walking up and down will take kindly to magic being used here," replies Mrs. Parkinson.

Harry, meanwhile, whispers to Sirius, "Was that apparition?"

"Not exactly, well, kind of. The normal way is just disappearing and reappearing somewhere, with a pop sound. Although this is still similar I think, just the Death Eaters' way of trying to look different," whispers Sirius. They watch as Pansy reluctantly hands over the box of matches before she eventually cheers up.

"Let's go walk around a bit, I wanna see who's here," she says, before grabbing Harry by the hand.

The latter glances back at his godfather warming up a meal, while Mrs. Parkinson heads inside with some dirty dishes. "Sirius, you coming?"

"Think I'll stay here for awhile." He lowers his tone before pointing to the tent, "And keep an eye on  _her_ , no offense, little Parkinson."

"Hmph, my mommy's a good person. But fine, suit yourself, Mr. Black." Pansy now walks down a stretch of pathway to the right of their tent, with Harry staying beside her. With the sun having risen a fair bit, the city of tents around them comes into view, showing Harry just how big the Wizarding World can be.

Adult witches and wizards gradually exit their tents to cook their morning meals, with some sneakily casting spells to light their fires. Children as young as probably four play around with all sorts of magical toys. This often results in Ministry officials hurriedly consulting their parents about secrecy in broad daylight.

"Ha, look at the little buggers go. Mom says I was just as active when I was that age," says Pansy, while stopping beside a confused Harry to watch the kids playing.

"Okay, that was random. Can't quite comment on being active, seeing as the most exercise I got was running from my cousin. But hey, I'm sure plenty of other kids enjoyed being cooped up in a cupboard beneath a staircase."

Pansy remains focused upon the handful of children running around a nearby tent. Her expression now unusually soft compared to how she's seen at school. Harry, meanwhile, stands impatiently before Pansy finally decides to continue walking, then she gasps out loud.

"Oh my God!"

"What? What's gotten your knickers in a twist?"

Pointing ahead excitedly, she draws Harry's attention towards a rather surly faced poster, moving as all Wizarding pictures do. It appears to be a young man simply blinking and scowling. "That's Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker! He's so young, only eighteen, and already a handsome world-famous star of his country," says Pansy, whose voice almost squeals in excitement.

Something turns in Harry's stomach, a sinking feeling in his chest as he grits his teeth. "So? Who cares? Look at him..."

"I so wish we had one of those posters. Actually, all these Bulgarian supporters do have. Maybe we should go in and ask for one?"

Harry groans loudly at the swarm of tents fervently showing their support in this Final. While far behind them a swarm of green shamrock covers the Irish supporters. "This is like Gryffindor vs. Slytherin again, reddish colours against green. Hope the green wins, hey look who's coming up the path."

Looking right at the four way intersection of gravel, Harry sees two girls partly-walking, somewhat-dancing. They appear to be all smiles while holding each other by the hand and dancing to their own tune.

"Daphne! Astoria! It's the Greengrass girls, you're not supporting Ireland by any chance, are you?" Harry asks, while running up to the cheerful sisters. "Get it? Green-grass?"

The joke is met with giggles from the younger sister, and a friendly hug from Daphne, who speaks, "Thanks for the birthday present! Fancy meeting you two here today, how's the holidays been treating you, Harry?"

He explains about the Black family home, but makes it pretty clear that he cannot divulge its location. Though it hardly bothers the girls who are more happy for him than anything else.

"Ha, that's one way to spend your holidays. Well at least you had magic to help you, screw the Trace, man. Oh, would you like to come meet my family? Mum, dad, and some distant relatives have all pitched together." The Greengrass sisters happily lead Harry and Pansy towards a surprisingly modest-looking tent. And it appears that there's at least a handful of adults, more brunettes than blondes, present.

"Mum, dad, aunts and uncles, oh and cousin too, we'd like you all to meet... ta-da! The Boy-Who-Lived!" Astoria makes an exaggerated bow beside an amused Harry, who instantly finds himself swarmed with handshakes and greetings. He can scarcely remember the names of those introducing themselves to him.

"Now this is more like it, Harry getting the respect he deserves," says Pansy, while standing in the pathway facing the Greengrass tents. "So, anyone else we know nearby?"

Daphne turns to Pansy while Harry busies himself with the family. "I'm sure I caught a glimpse of Marcus Flint farther down the pathway. His whole family is Quidditch-nuts, and don't seem too bothered that he's repeating."

"I guess all the Cups and matches he's won with our team's been an accomplishment enough already," says Pansy, before Harry walks over to her. His expression of joy bringing a smile to her face. "Enjoy your moment of fame, Potter boy?"

"Hell yeah! Man, Daffy girl, your family is so chilled out for...well... you know." Harry tries to find a nice way to explain his thoughts, though Daphne picks up on his words.

"For a mostly-Pureblooded bunch? We don't really care too much about that old way of thinking. Excessive obsession with blood status might lead to some nasty side-effects, so we keep it cool. Most of us are Pure-Blooded yes, but there's the occasional Half in there too."

"Well count me in as the  _occasional Half_  family friend I guess, or celebrity. Whichever you prefer," says Harry, before laughing.

"Come on, Harry, let's head down the path and see who else we know. Daphne's too attached to her family to join us, right?" asks Pansy, to which both Greengrass sisters agree.

"We'll see each other at school for a whole year anyway. Hope you don't mind if I stay with this lovable bunch?" asks Daphne.

"She's just happy that she's fussed over by lots in our family, just 'cos she's very pretty. Daphne's like the family 'Princess' or something, honestly," whispers Astoria.

"I think you're both nice, all of you actually," replies Harry, before walking down the pathway with Pansy at his side. As they walk past tents, and people of all nationalities, Harry loses count of names and the amount of stares he gets. The  _Boy-Who-Lived_ seems to extend in fame beyond the United Kingdom, which surprises him a fair bit. But at the far end of the pathway comes a T-junction, where a familiar, almost commanding voice can be heard.

Harry turns left at the junction and spots an open patch of grass. A dozen youngsters, probably too young for Hogwarts, enthusiastically race up and down while being ordered around by an older student.

"Faster! Move it, kids! You must be FIT to endure long Quidditch games on a broom. It ain't as EASY as it looks. You need STRENGTH in those legs to help with balance! Down, pushup time! Come on, those arms need to be STRONG to hold onto the moving broom. Working the bat, Quaffle, or trying to get the snitch needs POWER! WORK IT!"

Pansy stands beside Harry as both find themselves laughing at the unexpected scene before them. "No way, Marcus Flint turns out to be a softie with kids?  _Never_  could've imagined it," she says.

"What's this? Some junior Quidditch scout camp or something?" asks Harry amusingly, before Flint runs over to firmly shake his hand.

"HERE'S OUR BOY! NUMBER ONE CHASER AND SEEKER ON THE TEAM! HE'S THE BEST OF SLYTHERIN, SO LOOK HERE!" shouts Flint towards the awestruck children racing to crowd around Harry. "Care to meet the family? Mum and dad are both Quidditch fanatics, but dad can't decide who to support in the league. So he cheers them all on."

Once again, Harry meets another set of relatives to someone he knows. This time he steps into the Flint family tent which resembles a lavish cottage. Posters of nearly every team in the league adorn the dining area, while it's also clear that quite a bit of the family's been in Slytherin.

To Harry's surprise he even finds a list of Slytherin team members during Flint's years at school, including his name as well. The reception from Mr. and Mrs. Flint makes it clear that they're proud of both their son and the team's consistent performance on the field. Somewhere along one of the walls sits a handmade banner depicting the Inter-House Quidditch Cup and the years Slytherin have won it.

"Some of my cousins have been in Ravenclaw, and two have even passed out in Gryffindor in the past, believe it or not," says Flint, while giving a tour of the interior cottage.

After downing a free Butterbeer on behalf of the Flint parents, Harry even cleans the goblet before exiting the house. Though right at the door he finds himself stopped by a pigtailed little girl demanding his autograph.

"Marcus! How could you not even introduce me to Harry Potter right here in our tent?" she scolds, while looking up at him.

"Bah, this is Irma, my bratty little sister," mutters Flint, while trying to shoo the girl away. "Calm down, pipsqueak, you're starting school this year, duh."

"Shut up and lemme give the quill to Harry Potter!" retorts Irma.

Pansy sniggers, before speaking as they stand at the front door. "You're starting at Hogwarts this year? That's cute, try and be a Slytherin. Although you can't really choose—"

"Actually, you sorta can," says Harry, remembering how he very nearly became a Gryffindor. Which he reckons might've changed a fair bit. "If you  _really_  wanna be a Slytherin, the Sorting Hat will take it into consideration."

"Marcus, you never told me about the Sorting Hat."

"Well now you heard about it, so stop pestering me. And wait until school starts to get that autograph, argh! Cheers, Harry, catch you later. Or in the school year," says Flint, before Harry bids the family farewell.

"Did he just call you by your first name? That's kinda new," says Pansy, as they walk back down the pathway, past nearly a dozen whispering children.

Harry softly laughs before replying, "I pity anyone who messes with the sister of Marcus Flint this year. You don't reckon that's why he's so chilled about repeating? Because he gets to see her at school? Hmm, come to think of it he did mention 'unfinished business' at the end of term."

Pansy adopts a thoughtful expression, "I've heard that it's especially those kinda siblings that fight who you shouldn't mess with. Bet you he'd never tell Irma how much he loves her as a sister. Wish I had siblings..."

"Too bad about your father, and even worse that nobody knows how he died. Change topic I guess..." Harry sees the brief look of hurt on Pansy's face before she responds.

"I already told you that mom and I have made peace with that. So, let's head down that path as far as we can." Pansy leads Harry straight down a path between countless tents, and Magical folk speaking many different kinds of languages. At some point Harry hears the words 'No-Maj' and 'Muggle' as British and American families chat around a campfire.

"Harry? Harry Potter! Over here!" A familiar voice soon calls out, which Harry spots as being none other than Oliver Wood.

"Hey, Oliver, I see you've gotten my farewell gift," says Harry, upon spotting the boy's family crowding around his new Keeper gear and Nimbus 2001.

"Best gift EVER! I swear this is the BEST. The shock of when those owls came, man, thanks a lot! I'll be sure to work my way up from Puddlemere United's reserve team soon. Hopefully make the first team some day. Thanks a bunch..."

Harry lets the show of gratitude continue for the next minute before Oliver finally introduces him to his family. As expected, they all seem absolutely chuffed over his brand new Quidditch gear. It may not be a Firebolt, but the Nimbus 2001 remains on many a national team's roster, more than enough for a local club's reserve Keeper.

From here on out, Pansy and Harry continue to explore their way down many a pathway. "It's always amazing how you manage to juggle all these friendships, you know? I mean, after all the grief you've given team Gryffindor, those players still don't really hate you," says Pansy.

"It's not easy and I won't lie about it. Being friendly to some comes with the cost of other friendships. Just look at my dormitory and see for yourself."

"No need to remind me about that. Frankly, I'm disappointed in Zabini because I really thought he'd see sense. But he's taken to linking up with Nott and they're not gonna be your friends anytime soon. Speaking of which, I see the Nott family over there"—Pansy points out a tent in the distant corner at two pathways—"See that man over there with the gown on? That's Theodore Nott's father. Just call him Nott Senior. Ugly, isn't he?"

Harry is pulled away from being seen by the Notts, before being led down another pathway to the right. "What makes you say that?"

Pansy puts on an exaggerated shivering gesture, "He tried to propose to my mother back in '89, not too long after losing his wife. I would pity them, had the Notts not been so... I dunno... annoying. But mom would never wed that old man, even if he was decades younger."

"And why's that?" Harry winks towards a pair of whispering French girls, while speaking with Pansy as they walk.

"Mom says dad was a fun guy, well, as fun as life could be serving the Dark Lord. She's not into guys way older than her or that ragged-looking. Seriously, Nott Senior looks like a homeless man in some ways, even when he's clean-shaven."

"Looks like you narrowly dodged having  _Theodore_  as your stepbrother. At least then he wouldn't sneak a look at you, like I've occasionally seen him do since start of this year," says Harry, before Pansy groans and briefly brings her head to his shoulder.

"Please, oh my gosh, noooooo. Even if he was my stepbrother that wouldn't change a thing. The only reason mom is into this Pureblood stuff is because  _Voldemort_  is certainly still out there. I tell you, one day when he's gone she'll change completely. And before you ask, it doesn't really matter that you're a Half-Blood, 'cos you're talented and famous," says Pansy.

"I'll never understand you people. So over Pureblood stuff but here you are all mad over a Half-Blood like me. You're weird, Pansy."

"Haha, thanks, whatever."

They continue walking down the road until coming across Pansy's cousin, who Harry finally gets to meet. But his gaze falls soon upon one of her friends who immediately grabs his attention, and Pansy sighs.

"Great, another victim to one of Alyssa's friends. I've seen this before in France when I visited." Pansy walks right up to her cousin, who Harry notes as having blue eyes and black hair, before whispering.

"Is that..." The older girl quickly shoos away her friends to speak to Harry, "Lemme speak to my cousin's friend alone with Pansy. Catch you later, um, helloooo I'm asking you girls to walk away. Mathilde, Anaïse, and Fleur, can you ladies please give a girl some space?"

Harry hears giggles, laughter and French words spoken rather amusingly towards Alyssa before her three friends head back down the road. The blonde one who's grabbed his attention now out of sight, before Pansy approaches with her slightly taller cousin. To his surprise, she retains her English accent regardless of having attended Beauxbatons for so long.

"The legendary Harry Potter, looks like my little cousin did well with her choice of friends. Alyssa Kalina Parkinson, as I'm sure you know by my letters." She shakes Harry's hand while Pansy sniggers. "Why you laughing, little P?"

"You chased away those girls because you're afraid of  _that_  one."

Alyssa appears slightly confused, "Which one?"

"Oh you know, the one who's quarter-Veela. Who ends up drawing all the guys' attention away from your conversations, every single time."

"Oh shut up." Alyssa turns to Harry, then eyes his scar before speaking. "So what was it like? Feeling the Killing Curse I mean?"

"Dunno, can't remember back from when I was still pooping in my nappies," replies Harry, in a witty manner that has Alyssa give a snort.

"Sheesh, this one's got attitude indeed. Perfect match for you, Pansy. Now all he needs to do is stick his nose in other people's business and pretend to be sweet."

"I do not pretend!" argues Pansy, who then watches her cousin engage in a healthy bit of dialogue with Harry. The topic soon shifting to Sirius Black as reported by newspapers around Europe. It also dawns on Harry that Alyssa has certainly made mention around her school of his acquaintance with her cousin. After nearly twenty minutes of continuous conversation, Harry walks down the road with Pansy beside him.

"Your cousin seems nice but why isn't she in Hogwarts? I thought you said she was born and spent a good bit of her childhood here?"

"Dad's brother never truly liked the idea of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. So he moved his family to France and settled down there. That's why Alyssa's at Beauxbatons and not here, understand?"

Harry nods before speaking, "Man, how long have we been wandering around? It's almost noon already."

"Let's head back, I suppose." Pansy leads the way back to the tent where they are greeted by a rather surprising scene. Not only is Sirius firmly focused upon a game of Exploding Snap with Mrs. Parkinson, but they also seem to be having an unexpected visitor. Harry steps forward to see their guest sitting beside a most confused Mrs. Parkinson on the bench.

"D-Dobby?"

The elf turns to look at him and immediately smiles. "Dobby has left the Malfoy home for today, Harry Potter, sir! Dobby couldn't feel in better spirits than knowing Dobby has the freedom to do so, thanks to sir!"

"Is this your elf—No!" Mrs. Parkinson's question is cut short at Sirius winning the round, and dragging over a few silver coins.

"Five Sickles for that round, thank you."

Harry simply gawks, "What the—are you two gambling over here? In the open, in broad daylight? Put that Wizarding money away, Sirius."

"Here, keep it safe." Sirius flicks a Sickle which Dobby catches and places in a pocket... of whatever mix-match of clothing he's wearing.

"Dobby thanks Harry Potter's friend, sir."

Shaking his head, Harry inquires about Dobby's life at the Malfoys now, to which he is told things couldn't be better. The prospect of Harry's elf being able to leave them at any minute makes Dobby practically immune to ill-treatment. While at the same time, the fact of Harry having freed the elf, yet sent him back, causes strange reactions from the Malfoys themselves. But fortunately it appears that they're at least appreciative of the gesture, since Mr. Malfoy had caused all the trouble with the Diary.

After a good few minutes chatting with Dobby, Harry has him head back to Malfoy Manor. He then takes a seat at the campfire before Pansy and Sirius attempt to cook up some lunch, with fair efforts. The resulting bit of soup turns out to be fairly likable, and the group of four sit back and stuff themselves with a midday meal.

"Well, might as well kick back and relax for some of the afternoon. Game isn't until tomorrow evening anyway," says Harry, which draws echoes of agreement from the rest. Though he can't help but remain slightly vigilant around Mrs. Parkinson, given all the warnings he's heard from others.


	5. Trouble Abound

_Quidditch World Cup site, August 25th, 1994_.

The queue to collect water from a tap near the campsite's corner proves long and tiresome indeed. With Sirius walking around the camp—and drawing much attention—Harry finds himself stuck in line beside Mrs. Parkinson. Pansy, meanwhile, has decided to brave the massive amount of tents to try and find more known faces around.

"Look here," whispers Mrs. Parkinson, while discreetly rolling up her sleeve before Harry. What was once a vivid red tattoo now seems to have gotten slightly darker, to an almost maroon colour.

Harry nods as she rolls down her sleeve once more, "I think he's getting his strength back, slowly, somewhere. But there's nothing anyone can do at the moment except wait and see."

It certainly feels strange to be queuing beside Pansy's mother, and the looks from a few local adults don't seem to be helping either. Harry also spots a few faces walking past, including Tonks, which lets him know that some Aurors are keeping watch. By the time they finally reach the front of the queue, Harry waits for Mrs. Parkinson to fill the bucket with water. But she seems to be taking her time, causing those behind to complain.

Two foreign wizards standing next in line soon step forward beside Harry. "Tell your friend to hurry up, we do not have all day here."

Now finished filling the bucket, Mrs. Parkinson turns around to speak. "Actually, you do, so wait or go back home." Then she passes the bucket to Harry before walking right up to the two. "If you have a problem with me then say it."

After a tense few minutes, the wizards back off before Harry and Mrs. Parkinson walk past the queue. Along the way he spots the Ron and Hermione in line, but this time decides to follow Pansy's mother before they're stopped by a Ministry official.

"Excuse me, you two," says the official, which draws the attention of the crowd towards Harry and Mrs. Parkinson.

"Something wrong? If this is about those two folks then I've got nothing to say. They became agitated and troublesome behind me," says the latter.

"I agree, they started it, so tell them to shut up and watch their manners," adds Harry, while looking towards the pair of wizards from earlier. But they now approach, as if ready to fight, and Mrs. Parkinson pulls up her sleeves before drawing her wand.

"Enough! All of you calm down," The official's eyes spot the Mark on Mrs. Parkinson's arm, "Roll that sleeve down right now," he mutters urgently, and she decides to comply.

"Let's get back to camp." Harry decides to return with Mrs. Parkinson to their tent, though after quite a lengthy walk down the pathways. Upon their arrival they find Pansy having decided to take a nap inside while Sirius seems to have visited another tent. Harry takes the opportunity to boil some water in a kettle and make them all tea, seeing as biscuits are at the ready.

He then knocks on the room door and smiles as a yawning Pansy steps out. "Is it lunch time already or just a snack?"

"Just a snack, come on over to the campfire, sleepyhead."

With Sirius still elsewhere, probably at the Weasleys, the rest of the group enjoy a light snack of biscuits and tea. Countless witches and wizards pass by, too excited to even notice Harry Potter sitting among the trio. Then, past midday, a rather stern-looking gentleman happens to stroll by. Harry reckons that he looks like a proper Muggle bank manager, complete with crisp suit and tie. For some reason he appears fairly stressed out but does happen to stop and acknowledge the group.

"Holly Parkinson, I sincerely hope you 're not planning any trouble? There's enough stress on my head already, and I'm not just speaking about this whole international event..."

Mrs. Parkinson gulps down her biscuit surprisingly unladylike before scoffing. "Haven't you sunk rather low? To think it feels like yesterday when you had all the power of being Head of Magical Law Enforcement, interrogating us and all."

The elderly man's expression appears rather grim, "Be grateful you've wormed your way to freedom. As opposed to those in Azkaban."

"Oh, like that son of yours who died in prison? Don't try to strong-arm me now, old man. If I were you I'd watch out for anyone seeking revenge. After all, there are plenty of Death Eaters who knew your son—"

Harry can hardly believe what he sees as the elderly man storms into the camp to brandish his wand at Pansy's mother. "Don't test me, Parkinson! You have  _no_  idea what the hell's going on. He's broken free months ago and even killed Winky on his way out I—"

"Who's 'broken free', Bartemius? And what does your house elf have to do with any of this?" asks Mrs. Parkinson, before the man slowly backs off with a shocked expression.

"I've...said enough. Said enough, yes. You don't seem to know. Doubt he's been in contact with any of you. Probably hiding out there... somewhere... damn it. Should've never trusted a simple house elf to keep him at bay. Knew it was only a matter of time before he could break free. Curses! Damn it!"

Harry waits until the elderly man has walked away from their tent before speaking. "Who was that crazy old man? He seemed tense as hell!"

Sighing, Mrs. Parkinson replies, "That is Bartemius Crouch Senior. But there's no point in calling him  _senior_  anymore because his son, with the same name, died a long time ago in Azkaban. Crouch Senior was Head of Magical Law Enforcement back in the day and authorised the use of Unforgivables against us. So he fought fire with fire until you, little Potter, took down the Dark Lord."

Harry listens intently, keen on hearing as much about the old days as possible.

"They buried Barty Junior outside the prison. Was a bright young man,  _dangerous_  though. Aced his years at Hogwarts and took a real liking to the Dark Lord. But he was a true fanatic just like Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Well he's gone, mom, and the world's a better place without such a crazy," says Pansy, while nibbling on a biscuit. "Um, something wrong?"

Harry tries to remember the dream he's had two days ago in which he literally was slithering like a snake. There was the voice of Lord Voldemort, coming from behind a chair. Then there was an unknown young man kneeling before him. Words of 'coward', 'threaten', and 'I need you here' echoed from Voldemort. Then the chair spun around and the dream dissolved into a flash of green. But none of it makes sense for Harry, who replies, "No, nothing. I'm honestly and simply confused, that's all."

"Oh, okay. Well do have a biscuit because it's not every day that I bother to bake," says Pansy. With little else to do for the day, they wait it out until dusk arrives. Since the match is due to start anytime soon, the Ministry seems to abandon its efforts to curb the use of blatant magic popping up everywhere. Vendors, bookkeepers and all manner of salesmen begin apparating throughout the campsite trying to make a profit.

"Place your bets here!" calls a wizard, in a mix-match of Muggle clothing upon walking past the Parkinsons' tent.

"Well, let's see how good a financial advisor Mr. Malfoy can be," says Harry, upon remembering the letter from the end of last school year. In it Mrs. Malfoy had noted that her husband suggested hefty bets on an Irish victory. By now, Sirius has returned to the tent and stops him.

"Gambling is great but I'd rather you not take advice from Lucius Malfoy, even if Ireland does end up winning. You don't want to earn money knowing it came from that scumbag's advice."

"Point taken I guess." Harry decides to use what would have been his betting money instead on buying two pairs of omnioculars. "One for me and one for you, since Pansy and her mom already have their own," says Harry, who soon spots a rather dejected looking Ron walking beside Hermione nearby.

"You're too full of pride to do it for him," says an amused Sirius. "Here, give me that and I'll do it." Harry hands over another 20 galleons, which Sirius spends on two pairs of omnioculars, for Ron and Hermione.

"Blimey! For real?"

"Oh thanks, Sirius. That was really kind of you."

Eventually, a gong sounds in the distance to signal the match nearing its start. Meanwhile, green and red lanterns light a path through the darkened woods towards the stadium at its far end. "Just listen to that!" says Harry, as they walk through the woods. The sounds of singing and chants, national anthems, player names—mostly Viktor Krum—and all manner of excitement fill the air as the mass of spectators approach the stadium.

Situated on an open expanse of field before them, the stadium seems able to hold well around a hundred thousand people, if not more. "Oh wow, this one is so cool! Maybe someday you'll fly in competitions like these, Harry," says Pansy.

"Haha! These are all amateurs, I tell you."

"Tonks said it took around five hundred Ministry officials over a year to get this done. Muggle-repelling Charms probably all over this thing," says Sirius.

"What's wrong, mom? You seem worried?" asks Pansy, while looking up at her thoughtful mother.

"Times like these when everyone gets together, and possibly drunk... No, I don't think they'd be that stupid later on. Hopefully not," replies Mrs. Parkinson.

Once the group of four reach the entrance, a ministry witch checks their tickets. "Just below the top box, decent view for the whole family!"

Harry and Pansy suddenly start laughing at the witch, who's accidentally called them all family. Sirius and Mrs. Parkinson shoot almost comical looks at each other before the group ascends the purple-carpeted stairs. Its topmost exit seems to lead to the prestigious Top Box where Fudge and other esteemed ticket holders enjoy an unrivalled view. To Harry's surprise he spots the Weasleys and Hermione walking through.

"You could've just asked for one of dad's tickets," says Ron, to which Harry shakes his head and insists on accompanying Pansy. Soon, the Malfoys arrive at the staircase but stop to avoid walking in alongside the Weasleys.

"How'd you get up here, Weasley?" asks Draco, before being slapped on his arm by his father's walking stick.

"Be nice, Draco, although I doubt even their house could fetch this much for tickets." Mr. Malfoy then spots Pansy's mother, and smiles. "Good to see you, Holly."

"Likewise, Lucius. Though I prefer to keep below the top," she replies, rather cryptically.

"Ah, my very esteemed cousin," greets Sirius, while standing beside Harry and looking at Mrs. Malfoy.

"The redeemed criminal. Do try to stay out of prison this time and keep your  _friend_  safe."

The moment's worth of awkward conversation is finally ended as Fudge comes up the stairs. Since everyone's preoccupied with the Minister, Harry gestures towards Hermione standing at the entrance to the top box. She looks at him curiously, then gives a tight-lipped smile as Harry blows her a kiss.

Mrs. Parkinson joins Harry, Sirius and Pansy entering through the second-highest door on the stairs. They now find themselves walking down one of the upper rows of the stadium, where countless spectators eagerly anticipate the World Cup Final.

"Great, I knew she booked seats next to us, and with her friends as well," says Pansy, upon seeing Alyssa and company ahead. "Try and keep your eyes on the match please."

Wondering what Pansy's fussing is all about, Harry looks ahead and spots his place being booked right next to the blonde girl whom he's seen before. "Is this a joke? Life is playing a cruel joke on me and I know it."

"Go sit down next to that babe, James. But don't forget that we're here to watch the teams competing. And not to spectate on the spectators," says Sirius, while nudging Harry towards his seat.

The stadium roars with cheers and noise while awaiting the teams. "Uh, hi there. I think I saw you yesterday behind my friend's cousin?" asks Harry, to which the blonde girl sitting on his right nods.

"Is zis not exciting? Ze sport of Quidditch is seemply too boring at Beauxbatons, zat is my school by ze way. We do not 'ave such action by us."

For a moment, Harry can't help but snigger and snort at the girl's accent. Although he's heard some French folks on Aunt Petunia's TV shows, hearing it in person makes him grin. "Sorry, my bad."

Now the girl turns to look at him with a slight scowl. "I did not expect ze 'Arry Potter to be laughing at my accent."

"Who wouldn't?" whispers a giggling Pansy, in Harry's ear.

"What did your friend just say? I 'ave a feeling she thinks she is funny. Well she is not."

Harry can't help but continue to snigger until he simply bursts out laughing in his seat. Clutching at his sides, he finds himself torn between being attracted to the girl, laughing at her accent, and feeling bad about it.

"'Arry Potter, stop laughing at my accent! Zis is insulting, hmph."

"I am so sorry but zis is eeliarious! Oh no, I 'ave peecked up on it too, what shall I ever doo?" asks Harry, who laughs as Pansy falls onto him from her shrieks of laughter. "Forgeeeeev meeeee?"

The blonde girl now positively glares at Harry, her face red with embarrassment. "You are truly mean, 'Arry Potter. 'Ow dare you make fun of anuzzer person's accent? You need to learn some manners."

Harry now leans over in his seat beside the girl, while still laughing. "Oh! My broomzteeek is zee biggest one around. And my wand is really eleven eenches long, is zat beeg enough for a French girl like yoo?" He flashes his eyebrows at the blonde before she softly replies.

_"Connard."_

"I'm sorry but I couldn't understand a word of that."

_"Chienne folle."_

Harry turns to look at the frowning girl now sitting with folded arms, and can't help but laugh. "You look like a leetle girl when you sit so upset."

_"Va te faire enculer!"_

Seated on the girl's right, Alyssa gasps, "Whoa! Hahaha, Fleur, what's the deal with that? Calm down already."

"You sure have a way with girls," whispers Pansy in Harry's ear, before Ludo Bagman magically amplifies his voice and welcomes the crowd to the match.

"...and now let me introduce... the Bulgarian National Team mascots!"

As the veela mascots practically glide across the field, Harry finds himself just one of many utterly entranced by these creatures resembling woman. After nearly falling forward off his seat, he finds himself swiftly punched back into it by the blonde girl. Then Pansy grabs his hair and pulls the entranced Harry towards her.

"Those are  _veela_ , Harry. They're making all the males go nuts around here"—She spots him trying to climb over the seat ahead, much to the amusement of the girl seated on his right—"The things I do for you!" Pansy pulls him back then sits right on his lap to prevent him from standing up.

"Oh my! Such a strange way of dealing with ze veela charm on your 'Arry Potter friend," says the girl, while glancing in surprise at Pansy sitting on Harry's lap.

"Hmph! I'm glad he's not as crazy over you as those full-blooded ones. Argh, sit still already!"

Once the Bulgarian mascots have ended their musical entrance, the crowd roars in anger, demanding to have them back. Harry finally thinks clearly once more before looking confusedly at Pansy on his lap. "And now? Nice arse though."

The comment brings a smug smile on Pansy's face as she returns to her seat, but a scowling response from the girl on Harry's right.

_"Enculé!"_

"I doo not understand yoo, Mademoiselle. 'Ere comes zeee Irish mascots," says Harry, while resuming his earlier fit of laughter.

"I should 'ave let you jump over ze seats ahead, and fall flat on zat famous face,  _putain._ "

Looking to his left, past Pansy, Harry sees that Mrs. Parkinson had been forced to hold Sirius back from being affected by the veela. Though she merely grabbed him by the jacket, as opposed to how Pansy had sat on Harry's lap. The next few minutes sees a display of rainbows, leprechauns, and gold, the third of which flies all over the stands.

"Look at zese idiots trying to pocket all ze gold coins! Does nobody remember zat zey are  _leprechaun_  gold?"

After crawling across the floor, and nearly leaping onto the girl to grab some coins, Harry looks quizzically at her. "And what does that mean?"

"Give it a few hours and zey will be gone. POOF! Just like zat, stupid 'Arry Potter," she says, while snapping her fingers to emphasize her point.

"They... disappear? You mean they're temporary?" Harry remains on all fours on the ground, right before the smug looking girl.

"Maybe you should try ze spell:  _Accio Too Much Wax in My Ears._ " She smiles haughtily before kicking up her feet on the crawling Harry, which annoys Pansy.

"Excuse me, Ms. Part-Veela, but please take your feet off my friend."

"Well, 'e talks rubbish so I shall treat him like rubbish, hmph!" The girl leans back in her seat quite comfortably now as the teams are ready to go.

"Oh yes, I'll gladly be your rubbish, beautiful," says Harry, who's quite taken by this girl. "What's your name, by the way?"

" _Merde!_  You get idiots and zen zere is you, 'Arry Potter. A whole different level, I must say."

Pansy overhears the insult and now glares at the girl. "How about you shut up and leave him alone?"

"Oh, just like a little doggie defending its master. Aren't you two just ze couple out 'ere?" The girl smiles before lifting her legs, then nudges Harry aside with her left foot. He now returns to his seat where Pansy dusts him off.

"And to think she's one of my cousin's friends, unbelievable."

"She's not that bad"—Harry deliberately raises his voice a bit—"except zat she's very much uptight. Won't even tell me 'er name." His sly remark soon drowned out by the tremendous amount of noise booming from the crowd as the Irish Chasers seem to be outclassing the Bulgarians.

"Look at them go!" Pansy's tone appears ecstatic, especially as she follows Krum with her omnioculars. "And here I thought you were a good Quidditch player, hahaha!"

"Not funny. These are international players, and I don't give a damn about the  _talented_  Viktor Krum. So what if he's eighteen and playing international? Big bloody deal." Harry's tone goes from his earlier teasing to genuinely annoyed.

"I smell ze fragrance of jealousy on you."

"And I just smelt the fragrance of your feet earlier."

Now the girl laughs before replying, "You are jealous of zese star players indeed. Can you play Quidditch?"

"Of course I can, and I'm a darn good Quiddeeech player  _indeed._  Can you play, Mademoiselle?" They watch the Bulgarians trying to put up a fight but the gap between the scores now seems to be nearing over 100.

"Zat is probably ze only French word you know, Monsieur Potter. But yes I can fly a broomstick. Maybe everyone can."

Another few goals puts Ireland in the lead by a gap of 130, meanwhile, the crowd roars as Viktor Krum tricks his opponent into a...

"Wronski Feint! Looks like I'm not the only one who's good at it," says Harry, before turning to look at the girl on his right once more. "I asked if you can play Quidditch, not just fly a broom."

"One and ze same as far as I care. I would ask you to 'be quiet' and let me watch ze match, but you are proving to be a very entertaining idiot," replies the smirking girl. If not for cheering at her loudest now, Pansy would've certainly taken offense at this comment towards Harry.

"Come on Ireland, score some more!" cheers Harry, as the gap reaches 140, though Viktor Krum appears to be nearing the snitch. "Just two more and that Krum can catch it for all I care." He stands up from his seat to cheer before being yanked back down by the blonde girl.

"Sit zat bum down, you are causing a disturbance."

"Disturbance? Look at this place! It's a stadium full of roaring fans," says Harry in protest, before standing back up to cheer again. Yet he's pulled down once more. "Oh for the love of—huh, wait... YES!"

The Irish side have now gone 150 up which is then followed by yet another goal increasing the gap to 160. Then, to everyone's utter bewilderment, Viktor Krum catches the snitch, giving Ireland the win by 10 points.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA! UNBELIEVABLE." Harry practically roars with laughter while the girl sitting beside him simply claps her hands. "He knew they couldn't catch up to those Chasers so the talented Seeker goes to end it on his terms. But you still LOSE!"

Tremendous celebrations and applause sound for Ireland as their mascots swarm the field. From the top box above Harry, the World Cup is presented to them before they go out on a lap of honour. But even though they've lost, Bulgaria and its players—notably Krum—receive a thunderous applause from the stands. Harry decides to simply clap his hands at everything which happens now, until they're positively numb.

Crowds chat excitedly about the match as swarms of spectators begin making their way through the stands. Seeing Pansy, Sirius, and Mrs. Parkinson heading down the row has Harry bolting after them. But he's briefly pulled back by the girl he'd been sitting beside. "Fleur Delacour," she says.

"What? Sounds like a dessert served on a platter or something."

"Zat is my name! And it was nice to meet you, 'Arry Potter."

"Oh, thanks a lot." He can't help but smile warmly, though not before seeing Fleur scoff derisively.

"And it will be even more nice when I tell ze whole school I've met ze famous 'Arry. Or rather... famous  _idiot_  'Arry Potter." She turns around to head down the row to a door on its other far end, leaving Harry to gawk in disbelief. But he cares little about the likely tarnishing of his name in a foreign school, before hurrying past countless spectators towards the exit.

By the time Harry enters the Parkinson tent, Pansy and her mother appear to be wolfing down their dinner. Sirius, once again, seems to have gone off elsewhere. "He's always on the go," says Harry, before sitting down between mother and daughter in the living room area. The noise and celebration outside make it nearly impossible to get a peaceful night's sleep.

"That was a wicked ending huh? Who would've guessed?" asks Pansy excitedly. "Since you were so preoccupied with Alyssa's friend, I took the liberty of recording Krum throughout the match."

Harry simply gawks at her, "You what? For real? Are you serious?"

"Yes, it's all here. Okay, so I missed some parts when he moved too fast on that Firebolt, but it's a lot. So I expect you to watch, learn, and grow up to be a good Potter boy player."

After thanking Pansy profusely for her efforts, Harry heads to his room for a shower before changing into his pyjamas. But upon exiting the tiny bathroom, he sees a thoughtful Mrs. Parkinson standing in the room. "Something wrong, ma'am?"

"With all this celebration, drinking and whatever, I think it's bound to happen. Especially at an international event like this, although I'm not too sure. Put on casual wear and get into bed. I'll go have a look around."

"Okay then." Harry does as asked before slipping into bed in plain casual wear. He sees himself soaring through the air without a care in the world, and not a single worry about Voldemort or anything else around. Nothing makes sense, in what's possibly another random dream of doing all manner of crazy things, while simply enjoying life on a broom.

"Harry! Harry, wake up!"

The sound of Pansy's voice has him quickly sitting up bed, before being shaken out of his stupor. "What's going on?"

"The whole campsite's gone mental!"

"What do you mean"—Harry finds himself dragged out into the living room area—"WHAT THE? WHO'S THIS?"

Standing in the living room is a woman roughly the same height and fairly lean build as Mrs. Parkinson. But where there was once a woman in Muggle attire earlier, now stands a hooded figure. Upon turning around, it appears that she's wearing a mask of sorts. "Stupid, idiot, drunken, foolish, pretending, NITWITS!" the hooded woman yells, and Harry recognises the voice of Mrs. Parkinson.

"Mom! What should we do? How many of them are actual Death Eaters compared to wannabe pretenders?" asks Pansy, while holding Harry by the arm.

"Death Eaters? Oh crap, are they after me?" he asks.

"No, I doubt it. This is what happens when you put everyone together and add alcohol plus desperation. I thought something like this might happen and that's why I've brought along the old attire," says Mrs. Parkinson.

Loud bangs, followed by screams, now echo throughout the campsite. A complete difference from the earlier celebrations.

"Head to the woods and hide while I try and figure out what's going on around here. Who the hell decided to start this right here under the Ministry's nose?" asks Mrs. Parkinson, before Pansy grabs her mother by the black robes.

"Don't! There's too many Ministry officials out there, Aurors included. You're gonna get hurt! I don't want you getting hurt, mom."

"I can handle myself against a few of them. Now take your friend before someone spots him and decides to do something stupid. And don't come giving away my identity just like that, you hear?"

"I've got a hoodie for you, Harry. Good thing we're kinda similar in size, huh?" Pansy pulls out the piece of clothing which Harry gratefully uses to hide his face a fair bit. They then stash whatever they can into rucksacks before leaving.

"Thank goodness we brought nothing of real importance. Oh man, I hope Sirius is okay." Harry stands beside Pansy at the front door.

"Everyone's probably headed into the forest by now, hopefully he'll be there."

They step out into the scene of a burning campsite, while far in the distance a group of shadowy figures appears to be marching. Four people appear to be levitated like puppets in the air above them. Then Pansy briefly uses her omnioculars to determine that they're the Muggle family owning this campsite. But something soon comes streaking through the air towards them before Harry pulls Pansy to the ground.

"Who the hell's firing spells at us?" he mutters, before drawing his wand.

"Hold your fire, I think those are children!" calls an unfamiliar voice of a Ministry official approaching nearby. Yet as the two near the campsite, Mrs. Parkinson appears in her smoky apparition manner.

"What the  _hell_  is mom doing? I hope she's not enjoying this," whispers Pansy, before fleeing away from their tent site.

"Damn, this one's real, ain't a drunk. Get some Aurors this way on the double!" The two officials send up blue sparks from their wands before fighting a losing battle against their opponent. While distancing himself, and Pansy, from the action, Harry watches incredulously as the officials are knocked out.

"Well at least she's not killing anyone, I hope," mutters Pansy. "Not that I think she'd do that now."

Two figures appear out of thin air with a pop. Squinting his eyes to see, Harry just about makes out two unknown Aurors taking on Pansy's mother. And just like he's heard from others' warnings, Harry spots Mrs. Parkinson giving the pair a tough time.

Never before has he seen a duel this fast and fierce in his life before as spells are sent flying across the campsite. Soon another Auror joins in, and Pansy trembles in fear. "Mommy!"

"Shhh, be quiet out here," mutters Harry, as they stand at the edge of the darkened woods. Metres away at the tent site, it appears that Pansy's mother blasts down one, then two Aurors, before deciding to disapparate from the scene.

Harry and Pansy now decide upon creeping into the woods under cover of pitch black darkness which annoys Pansy. Here and there they bump into children and adults fleeing through the woods "I can't see a darn thing. Let's  _Lumos_ this place up, ow! Harry, you stepped on my foot."

Drawing her wand, Pansy directs the light across a narrow path ahead as they walk. They continue to make their way through thick crowds, uncaring goblins, to a bunch of veela attracting men's attention, to eventually reaching a clearing in the forest. Harry looks around but there appears to be few people nearby. A few silhouettes can be seen lurking behind the distant trees at the edge of the clearing, before Harry steps forward. "Stay here and don't come out unless I call."

Pansy nods before shielding herself behind a thick tree as Harry steps into the seemingly deserted opening. The figures remain hidden in the distance while two students suddenly approach Harry in the clearing.

"Fancy meeting you here, Potter. Enjoying the show? Where's your Mudblood friend when we need a good show of her knickers? Did you see them Muggles flailing around in mid-air?"

Harry turns around to see a most amused Theodore Nott walking beside Blaise Zabini into the clearing.

"Leave Hermione out of this. So where's your father, Nott? No doubt enjoying the bullying of helpless Muggles?" Harry walks slowly with wand in hand, moving in a circle while facing Nott and Zabini.

"Those girls aren't here to protect you now, huh? Parkinson, Greengrass, Bulstrode, Perks or Davis. Let's see how manly you really are," says Zabini.

"We share a dorm, you dumb bastards. Don't you dare try to attack me like this," warns Harry. Meanwhile, Pansy forces herself to stay put as told. It appears that a 2-on-1 duel is imminent, and she hopes that Harry's been revising his spell-work over the holidays.


	6. Summer's End

_"Protego!"_

Harry can hardly believe the sheer audacity of Zabini and Nott here. Attacking him in a clearing of the woods for their entertainment, but he reckons they've underestimated him. Although he's by no means the world's best duellist, Harry has had extra opportunity to practice over the holidays. After all, he recalls having spiced up the dreary chores of Grimmauld with blasting offensive spells at whatever he can.

From nimble doxies to spiders, a murderous ghoul to bewitched furniture, he's kept up with spell-work indeed. But two-on-one provides a different challenge for Harry as he needs to keep his eyes on both opponents. It doesn't help that Nott seems to move around all the time.

 _"Expelliarmus!"_ shouts Nott, before Harry narrowly side steps the scarlet spell. Zabini adds a Jelly-Legs Jinx to the mix, though it's blocked by Harry's Shield Charm.

While leaping to the side to evade another Jinx, Harry fires off a Banishing Charm which smashes through Nott's  _Protego._  The latter now sent metres back in the air before landing on his back.

"Cheap trick,  _Rictusempra!"_ Zabini casts his spell then moves right into the centre of the clearing. "Darn!"

Taking cover behind a rock, Harry looks around then aims at Nott who's gotten up.  _"Petrificus Totalus!"_  The spell hits the ground as Nott ducks behind another rock in the clearing.  _"Everte Statum!"_ Harry's second spell collides with Zabini's Knockback Jinx in mid-air as both fizzle out in a flash. He then crawls out towards a nearby tree at the edge of the woods.

"Come on, Potter, let's see what those girls all see in you. I honestly have no idea why Parkinson keeps choosing you over me. My father's got wealth and we've got a massive house. But you've got neither of those two," says Nott.

"And he's not even a Pureblood," adds Zabini, while Harry sees them standing right in the open and sniggering. But he takes his time to creep through the perimeter of the woods, even as they continue taunting him. All around them, sounds of the marching Death Eaters and violence can be heard past the woods.

"You're no better than a Mudblood!" shouts Nott. But as Harry is about to attack, metres from the unsuspecting pair's side, he spots familiar faces peering around a distant tree. It appears to be Ron and Hermione who are looking to see what the fuss is about.

"Are you really going to hide the whole time? Scared when there are no girls or that Mudblood Granger to help you, huh?" taunts Zabini.

 _"Stupefy!"_  Harry bolts out from his spot between two trees and hits Zabini square in the shoulder, with barely enough power to briefly knock him out. "You're really starting to get on my nerves, Nott. Why don't you run along and go play with daddy?"

"At least I still have one. Unlike yours who got himself killed."

"Son of a—  _Flipendo! Depulso! Tarantallegra!"_ Harry fires off multiple spells while running across the clearing and blocking Nott's with his Shield Charm.

"You should've been in Gryffindor, Potter, not my House. At least then you could play with that filthy Mudblood friend of yours.  _Locomotor Mortis!"_

"Worry about yourself and not my choice of frien—" Harry finds his legs suddenly locked in the curse. "Bastard!  _Finite Incantatem!"_ With the curse removed, he picks himself up then fires off a Knockback Jinx, hitting Nott in the arm and blasting him back.

"Get up, Blaise, come on! Don't let this Half-Blood idiot beat us—argh!" Nott's momentary lapse in concentration ends up with his legs dancing uncontrollably. "Think this is funny?  _Finite! Petrificus Totalus!"_

Harry blocks the Curse then doubles back towards the edge of the clearing upon seeing Zabini slowly getting to his feet. Once again it's two on one as Nott and Zabini spread out. They now stand a fair distance from each other and fire their spells towards Harry, who finds it tougher to watch both of them.

"You know what's funny? It's always  _Pureblood this_  and  _Pureblood that_ , and yet two of you are struggling against one filthy Half-Blood like me," mocks Harry, while blocking Zabini's spell and evading Nott's.  _"Everte Statum!"_

Blasted back by the spell, Nott picks himself up once more before firing a Knockback Jinx. Zabini follows through with a Jelly-Legs Jinx but both spells are blocked. "Think you're pretty awesome with that spell? It's bound to give in at some point. Maybe you should ask that Mudblood filth of yours to better teach you how to duel," sneers Nott.

"Enough! I don't know if you're just taking the piss or what, but nobody insults my Hermione.  _Flipendo! Everte Statum!"_

Nott narrowly avoids the oncoming spells before teaming up with Zabini once more. As the minutes pass by, Harry's Shield Charm soon begins to struggle in keeping up with both opponents. Then he hears a somewhat familiar, though hoarse, female voice coming from the woods.

_"MORSMORDRE!"_

Immediately the duel between Harry, Nott and Zabini ceases as they look up to the skies above. A colossal greenish skull, with a serpent protruding from its mouth, now hangs eerily in the air.

"That's the Dark Mark up there, Potter. They used to cast that over the homes of people they killed. Perhaps they've gotten to your Mudblood pal..." says Nott, while Zabini simply stares upwards.

"Don't you dare—" Harry's sentence is cut short as known faces hurry from the woods. The Weasleys, Hermione, and a stressed out Sirius race towards him in the clearing.

"Harry!" The relief in Sirius' voice is clearly evident. "I shouldn't have left you alone like that, what if... no, you're safe and that's all that matters."

"I dunno how and why you befriended this excuse for a man. I doubt it was he who cast the Dark Mark," says Nott, while slowly deciding to back off.

"Was it your father perhaps, Nott?" asks Harry, showing the tensions of his House right here in the clearing.

"Who said my father was doing any of this? Come on, Blaise, let's leave Potter to his Mudblood and Blood Traitor friends."

Still silent, Zabini begins walking away but sees numerous Ministry officials circling the clearing. It appears to be Mr. Crouch along with a few Aurors and officials. Harry spots Tonks looking upwards in a fair bit of astonishment.

"Is everyone alright?" asks Mr. Weasley, while Mr. Crouch seems more concerned about the Dark Mark hanging in the skies above the .

"Who cast this spell? Which of you sent up the Dark Mark?" he asks.

"None of us did!" says Harry, to which Nott and Zabini nod. Soon, Pansy steps into the clearing, in their defence.

"I heard someone else cast it, from deeper in the woods."

"Where did you come from?" asks Nott, while looking at Pansy. But Mr. Crouch immediately appears suspicious.

"Don't lie to me, Parkinson! Where's your mother?"

"Right over here." Mrs. Parkinson, dressed in Muggle clothing once more, approaches the sizable group of people in the clearing. Almost instantly, every Ministry official has their wand at the ready as she walks to stand between Pansy and Harry. "Only a true follower could have conjured that in the air."

"Like you, perhaps. Hand over your wand," demands Mr. Crouch, to which Mrs. Parkinson complies. "Now let's see, you did arrive suspiciously quick to the scene of the crime..."

Harry spots Cedric Diggory, and who appears to be his father, now approaching. "Well, look here, a Death Eater caught in the act. There's a very simple way of checking the last spell performed. All of you here, hand over your wands for checking," says Mr. Diggory.

"Amos! Think about what you're saying. How could these children cast the Mark? I'd understand if we checked Holly Parkinson's wand, but not the kids," says Mr. Weasley.

"It certainly wasn't any of us. We were hiding behind those trees just now," says Hermione, while standing beside Ron and most of the Weasleys.

"You saw us?" asks Harry, before Hermione simply nods in return. He then sees Mr. Crouch place his wand tip to tip with Mrs. Parkinson's before muttering an incantation.

_"Prior Incantato!"_

A wisp of grey smoke appears at where the wands meet. It appears to resemble a form of light, merely a shadow of the spell it resembles.

"Just a Wand-Lighting Charm there. Nothing sinister," says Mrs. Parkinson, although a few Ministry officials appear suspicious.

"Far too convenient. She could have performed a  _Lumos_  right after casting the Mark!" shouts Mr. Diggory, while Mr. Crouch seemingly agrees before returning the wand.

 _"Deletrius."_ He vanishes the echo of the spell before shaking his head in defeat. "It's no use, we might as well check their wands but I doubt any of them did it. Damn it, spread out and see what you can find."

Harry, Nott, Zabini, and Pansy subsequently hand over their wands for checking, though none reproduces the Dark Mark.

"What's with all these offensive spells popping up? You kids having a duel here or something?" asks Tonks, which elicits nods from the fourth years. She then leans forward and lowers her voice, "You're bloody lucky we're so preoccupied with the Mark and stuff. Shouldn't have been casting all over the place here, but we'll let you off the hook this time."

As the group disperses, the clearing is left with just Sirius, Harry, Pansy and her mother. The fourth of whom mutters towards the rest.

"Truth be told I did send up the Mark but with my late husband's wand. It's so easy to fool the Ministry that you'd swear they didn't need NEWTs to get in," says Mrs. Parkinson with a laugh.

"What possible reason did you have to do that, Holly? You trying to worsen the trouble?" asks an astonished Sirius, while standing with his arm around Harry's shoulder.

Pansy scoffs before speaking, "Mom probably changed her voice briefly then did it to  _end_  the trouble. Am I right?"

Mrs. Parkinson nods while smiling at her daughter's deduction. "My clever girl, yes I did. The best way to clear the crowd of idiots was to remind them of what they're messing with. Hard to believe how fast they all just ran off, Lucius and Nott included."

"They were in on it too? I just knew it! Shouldn't we tell the Ministry? Do you have any proof?" asks Harry.

"I'd rather not cause trouble with former friends, Harry Potter. Besides, I don't have anything that constitutes as solid evidence, other than word of mouth which they wouldn't care for."

Harry spots Sirius eyeing Mrs. Parkinson carefully, as if trying to figure this woman out. She's summoned the Dark Mark to disperse the chaos yet hesitates to provide assistance to the Ministry.

"Anyway, a few memory charms ought to set things proper with the Muggles, right?" asks Harry, eliciting murmurs of agreement around him. "I have a history with memory charms, though it didn't end well for the caster."

"Ha, Lockfart. Come on, let's get back to what's left of the camp before people get suspicious of us," says Pansy.

"It was fun I'll admit but stupid in the end. They bit off more than they can chew, which is why they all fled from the Mark. We've all worked hard to keep ourselves out of Azkaban. With some exceptions..." Mrs. Parkinson turns to glance at Sirius as the group begins walking through the woods.

"Very funny. Like I'd ever been in leagues with you people."

"I told you nothing's going to happen to Harry. He was with us the whole time and look: safe and sound," declares Pansy, quite triumphantly. Though Sirius still darts his eyes to the Death Eater throughout their trip back towards the camp.

After packing and cleaning everything up, then concealing the Firebolt with a Disillusionment Charm, the group walks past Mr. Roberts. He truly seems dazed but Mrs. Parkinson explains to Harry that he'll be fine. As it's now daylight, they decide upon joining up with the Weasleys at their Portkey.

"Too exposed up there to fly back home now," says Sirius. "You taking Portkey back as well, Holly?"

"Yes, Sirius. That's how we got here."

Pansy giggles softly before whispering to Harry, "First name basis, huh?"

"Well it's quite ironic that my innocent godfather ended up in Azkaban while your mother had not, no offense."

"None taken." Pansy walks beside Harry as the group approaches a most surprised Weasley family at the keeper of Portkeys. Harry recognizes the two wizards from when he had landed here with Sirius.

"Oh my, well, um..." Mr. Weasley tries to find something nice to say to Mrs. Parkinson as she stands behind him in the queue.

"So, Harry, I guess I'll see you when school starts again, do keep safe," says Pansy, before heading back home with her mother. Next, Harry and Sirius join up with the Weasleys and Hermione.

They soon arrive at Stoatshead hill, a fair distance from the Burrow. "Now I know what toothpaste feels like going down a tube, ugh," says Harry.

Sirius laughs at the remark before commenting, "You'll get used to it. Everything feels awful the first time it's done, including Apparition or side-along Apparition. Now let's head inside and get some much-needed rest. I reckon by nightfall we can fly back home."

"What about using the fireplace here?" asks Harry, while walking behind the Weasleys and Hermione back towards the Burrow.

"My 'esteemed' home's no longer connected to the network, it's been so for a long time." They eventually reach the house and are faced with a tearful Mrs. Weasley.

"Sirius and Harry too? Thank goodness you're  _alive!"_  she races over to grab them each into a tight hug. Harry spots the laughter on Hermione's face as she stands at the kitchen doorway behind Mrs. Weasley.

"Mr. Weasley, is there any way to, I dunno, use memories or something? Surely the magical world could use that to prove things?" asks Harry.

"No, because memories can be altered. They're not usually seen as reliable sources of information by the Ministry. Why do you ask?"

Harry shakes his head as he enters the house, at the break of dawn. "Just curious, it was nothing."

The Burrow's kitchen soon finds itself filled to capacity with the family, Hermione, Harry and Sirius all gathered around the table. Fervent discussions arise around this morning's riot and its subsequent coverage in the  _Daily Prophet._  Even worse is Rita Skeeter's twisting of facts, which Mr. Weasley notes he'll have to discuss at work. By midday, Harry finds himself being stopped on the second floor landing.

"Are you're alright? Because I can understand if you of all people are terrified," says Ginny, who even offers to store the now visible Firebolt in her room.

"I'm fine. No need to stress about the big, evil Slytherin, although..." Harry leans forward and closer to Ginny, who's nearly his height. "I could do with a pep-me-up."

A shocked expression crosses Ginny's face, then her cheeks redden as she speaks. "I... don't you realize that I'm not a little girl anymore?"

Harry grins mischievously before staring into her eyes up close. "I can certainly see that, pretty little Seeker."

"Darn it," she mutters , while finding herself entranced by Harry's green eyes up close.

"Ha, you're too scared to make a move on me, little Miss Weasley—" Harry then laughs as he's so swiftly pulled into a tight hug by Ginny, before she slowly steps back.

"You're a real tease, Harry Potter."

"Don't touch my broomstick too much, the Firebolt I mean."

Ginny hurries downstairs to her room before shutting the door. But soon gasps as Harry starts knocking. "Huh?"

"What are you doing in there while thinking about me?" He sniggers upon pestering the girl inside. "Got any  _inappropriate_  pictures of the Boy-Who-Lived in there, or on your mind?"

The lack of response has him simply laughing before heading upstairs towards Ron's room. Hermione seems to be chatting to Ron as Harry enters, but soon stops.

"Harry, we were just talking about you." She gestures for him to take a seat beside her on the edge of the bed.

"That was some duel," adds Ron, which startles Harry.

"Yeah, I guess."

Folding her arms with a sigh, Hermione's expression softens upon eyeing Harry. "You don't have to put up with all that rubbish, you know. If I'm making your life miserable in your own dormitory then feel free to speak your mind."

"I will never throw you away just to appease idiots like Nott."

The statement earns a smile from Hermione, and a tad more respect from Ron, though still not friends with him. Deciding upon changing the topic, Harry recalls the events leading up to the conjuring of the Mark.

"Bloody hell, could it be your friend's mum who sent up the Dark Mark?"

"I didn't say it was her. But whoever it was had chased away the other Death Eaters. Plus it didn't look like I was being targeted, so it was just  _fun_  on their part." The following hour is spent speculating about Voldemort, his possible plans and whereabouts. But neither seems clear at the moment even after Harry tries recalling parts of his earlier dream.

"What makes no sense at all is Trelawney's prediction I heard last year. You know, the one about You-Know-Who's follower having joined him sometime," says Ron.

"I'm honestly perplexed by that as well. We had gotten Pettigrew, so that leaves us with too many options. Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Nott, or any other Death Eater who avoided prison. No offense, Harry, but Parkinson's mom counts as well," says Hermione.

"Problem is that we've seen how scared all of them are at even seeing the Dark Mark. I'd imagine that wouldn't go down well even if any of them were reunited with Voldemort—"

"Don't—say—his—name!" whispers Ron.

"Fine, the  _Dark Lord_ , there, you happy? If it bothers you so much, Ronald, then I'll just call him by that title.

Ron sighs at the lack of progress towards figuring out anything about Voldemort. "So, care to join us for a game of Quidditch outside? Ginny, Bill, Charlie and Fred and George are ready too. Maybe even Sirius."

"Ron," Hermione's expression turns to slight concern, "I think he needs to get rest. After all the early morning action, including that duel, we should leave him be."

"Quidditch sounds like a real good option now, but nah. Let Ginny go ahead and enjoy the Firebolt while I get some rest, though you're welcome to have a go on it too. Don't mind the green stripes and whatnot."

"Blimey, for real? Thanks! Just don't sleep on my bed though." Ron exits the room to head downstairs and organize today's game in the nearby orchard. This leaves a yawning Harry alone with Hermione in Ron's room, seated atop the spare bed.

"Goodness, but aren't you simply exhausted? Here, lay down and shut those nice eyes."

Harry does as told, before having a blanket thrown over him as Hermione reaches for a textbook. "There are few things better than resting in the comfort of a Muggleborn babe. Mugglebabe... my Muggle—" He yawns widely again, "Oh she loves my eyes... everyone does, yeah..." his eyes begin to close.

Hermione simply stands beside the bed and shakes her head in amusement. "You  _really_  need that sleep."

She then sits on the bed before leaning against the wall. Her legs outstretched perpendicularly atop Harry's while reading through her fourth year textbooks. Occasionally, while taking a brief break from revising, Hermione smiles while glancing towards the sleeping Slytherin.

Hours later, Harry awakes by late afternoon to find Hermione still seated on the bed. After sitting up, he darts his eyes right to look at her socks, then stealthily aims his wand.  _"Accio."_

"Wha—Harry!"

"Good afternoon, and I do say you've got such pretty feet. Want me to polish your nails? I've done it before on my girls."

"You'd better slip those socks on exactly as they were, or else..."

Harry climbs out of bed then stands with his arms on his sides. "Or else what, Miss Granger?"

_"Accio!"_

"Huh?" He suddenly falls flat on his back before his tracksuit pants practically flies off towards a red-faced Hermione.

"Socks on or it's your knickers off. You choose. Oh wait, never mind—"

"My choice? Fine! I'm certainly not putting those socks on, so do your absolute worst," says a laughing Harry, while laying on the ground in t-shirt, socks and boxers. "I'm waiting."

Torn between feeling embarrassed, amused, and something else, Hermione groans before almost burying her face in the textbook. "Utterly immature."

In an unexpectedly timely manner, the door opens to reveal Ginny entering. "Hermione, I wanted to know if Harry's still sleepi—"

"Oh hey there," he greets, waving casually while laying on his back with just a pair boxers to cover below his waist. Ginny's reaction proves to quite possibly be the fastest and most intensely Harry's ever seen a girl blush. Even Hermione feels awkward on her behalf as the whites of Ginny's eyes are clearly visible from her shocked expression.

"It's just knickers, not like you can see..."

"Harry," says Hermione, from behind her textbook. "You're facing the door and those knickers are a little airy from the bedroom breeze now. So, um, Ginny can most likely see your..." Hermione gasps before dropping her textbook while laughing. She's seemingly glanced at the many posters of a certain Quidditch team in Ron's room before adding, "... Chudley Cannon! Hahahahaha!"

"It's  _Chudley Cannons_ , that's the name. Wait, you're not speaking about the team are you?" Harry looks down and sees that there is quite a view indeed for the still shocked Ginny. "Hermione Jean Granger, did you just nickname my broomstick? You surprise me."

While still roaring with laughter on the bed, Hermione shakes her head. "Not as surprised as Ginny. Look at her! What have you done to the poor girl?"

Harry leaps to his feet, slips on his pants, then waves his hand before the blushing Ginny's face. "Hellooo? So, is it just as you'd imagined?"

She slowly backs off, a mixture of disbelief and guilt on her face, then hurries out the room. The sound of her racing down the steps now heard from Ron's room. "It's... probably...  _bigger_  than she thought," says Hermione, while trying to calm herself down from a tremendous bout of laughter.

"And I here I've always thought you were an innocent  _little_   _bookworm_."

"I am your height, you know." Hermione moves to the edge of the bed, stands up, then shakes her head again. With a curling gesture of her finger she speaks, "So arrogant and yet such a child, come here."

"Yes, neaten me." Harry smiles as she untucks his t-shirt and ties his shoelaces. "That's my Granger."

"You missed lunch, by the way. But I suppose the little child needs to be fed so I dished you some. Do feed that brain please, it's evidently starving at the moment." Hermione carries her textbook on one side and essentially drags Harry by the hand downstairs. Once in the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley offers to dish him a late lunch.

"It's okay, Hermione's taken care of that."

Mrs. Weasley's expression seems partly surprised before she leaves, "Oh, alright then, that was nice of her."

After sitting at the table and watching Hermione heat up his food, Harry softly laughs. "Never took you for a housewife type."

"Excuse me?" She places Harry's plate and fork before him. "Well you see, I have this friend who's so big-headed and occasionally arrogant. But at the end of the day he's just an overgrown little child. Someone needs to take care of poor him."

"Sounds familiar." Harry teasingly smiles before digging into his meal. Meanwhile, Hermione takes a seat at the otherwise empty table to read up on her work. "And I have this friend who's so darn attractive."

"Be quiet and eat."

"Oh I do love it when the firm Granger comes out. Where's that sexy glare? Gimme the Hermione death glare!"

She all but slams her textbook on the table before suddenly smiling. Not of joy, but of a sudden mischievous idea as Hermione walks around the table. "You know what? I think you asked for this."

"Asked for wha—mmph!" Harry finds himself literally being fed like a baby by a wickedly grinning Hermione. "Okay, you've made your point..."

"Oh no, you've been interrupting my revision. Revenge is a dish best served warm at the Burrow. Open up!" Hermione stuffs another forkful of food into his mouth while sitting beside him. Minutes later, Ginny enters the kitchen before suddenly giggling.

"Brilliant! Lemme have a go too."

"By all means help me feed this arrogant, pestering little child."

"I demand the same treatment with tonight's shower. Watch out for the broomstick though."

"Shut up!" Both girls alternate between stuffing his mouth full for the next few minutes. Once the plate has been emptied, Harry leans back in his chair with arms behind his head.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for both your pathetic services, Miss Granger and Miss Weasley," he remarks while smirking.

"Hey!" Ginny punches him on the shoulder before Hermione grabs a fistful of his hair. "You trying to act like Snape or something?"

Harry tries to speak in an annoyed voice. "Ahem! What would I get if I added powered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"What?"

"Oh for Heaven's sake. You seriously  _still_  remember that from our first lesson in first year?" Hermione groans with a sigh. The teasing and taunting continues for more than a few minutes, before she returns to her studies and Ginny heads back outside.

"You can gaze at my eyes when you take a brea—"

_"Silencio."_

Muted, Harry shrugs before folding his arms and simply watching Hermione carry on with her studies for the rest of the afternoon. As temperatures begin to drop into the evening, the Quidditch party returns. Sirius gives Harry an amused look upon seeing him simply watching Hermione.

"You might be creeping her out a bit, I think."

Still unable to speak, Harry tries gesturing with his hands that Hermione's worth looking at. As he shapes an hourglass figure in the air, Harry spots Hermione briefly looking at him with that glare. He then points to his temple and gestures a thumbs up, indicating that she's smart as well as attractive.

"Come on guys, and Ginny, let's leave these two alone in the kitchen. Or at least until Hermione decides to let him speak again." Sirius leads the group into the living room area where they plonk themselves on the couches. Once the sun has finally set, and after a heart-warming dinner, Harry and Sirius fly back towards their home in London.

The rest of the week passes without much incident as they eventually get around to buying Harry's listed items for the year. Most notably is a set of dress robes needed for a 'formal occasion' this year.

"Formal what? Never had this before," says Sirius, while sitting at the table with everything but dress robes.

"Well I know exactly what kinda dress robes I'd like. If they're doing something formal then Harry James Potter needs to live up to his reputation."

"This ought to be interesting. We've got what... two days until the Express is set to leave? Yeah, so firstly what colour dress robes would you prefer?" asks Sirius while looking at Harry seated to his right.

"I'd prefer something black to bring out these eyes."

"Lily's eyes indeed. That'll already steal the show."

"Also I'd like there to be something Slytherin-ish. Like a silver snake of something somewhere on it. Nice and big for everyone to see. Not sure about the style though," admits Harry.

Sirius pauses while glancing thoughtfully at Harry. "Aha! I know just the perfect type that'll suit you. Victorian style tailcoat. Black with maybe a tinge of green lining, and notably a silver serpent... maybe on the back."

"Since when are you a fashion designer?" asks Harry amusingly.

"I've been around doing some reading and talking. So long as you're willing to fork out the coin you'll be a star of the night."

"Money's hardly of any concern to me, to us actually," admits a rather proud Harry.

"Lucky us then. Also, as much as I hate the bastards I'll have to admit that my family's had a certain sense of fashion. From my parents and their formal wear, to the ever prissy Narcissa, to Bellatrix and her style. Not that I'm really praising any of them," says Sirius.

"So I'll be going in with the esteemed help of the Black family fashion sense? Good to know," says a laughing Harry, before the last few holidays are spent organizing his dress robes for this year. Then by the first day of September, Harry heads for King's Cross station with Sirius. "Hopefully this'll finally be a bloody normal year of school."


	7. Another Year Begins

Travelling to King's Cross station from Grimmauld Place, in Islington, proves to be a blessing for Harry. It's certainly far more convenient than coming from Little Whinging. With everything but his owl and cage packed into his trunk, Harry and Sirius call a taxi in the early hours of morning. Though it be drizzling with rain, the caged Hedwig remains on good behaviour as she's placed in the taxi.

"What's with the owl, lad? Shouldn't you be going off to school? Why are you not in uniform?" asks the Muggle taxi driver, while standing beside the vehicle.

"We're having a bird show today. First day of school's always fun, I'll change later."

"Doesn't sound like any school I've been to, so where do you go?"

Sirius pulls open a passenger door before speaking, "People might get the wrong idea from a grown man asking where a boy goes to school. You want them to think you're a pae—"

"What? No! Forget I asked anything, alright, King's Cross you said, huh?"

The short drive proves uneventful as they make their way to the station. Upon their arrival Sirius gets out to push the luggage. Meanwhile, Harry can hardly believe that a slight change of appearance makes Sirius basically unnoticed by the Muggles. Yet just a year ago his face had been all over the news. Once they near the barrier to Platform 9 and 3/4, Sirius smiles.

"I'm half tempted to run through here and board the Express myself. Nothing like those years at school, you'd better enjoy them, Harry. It's already fourth year out of seven for you."

"Feel free to hop aboard and attend, though you'll probably end up pranking people again, Padfoot. So, you sure about some of those plans of yours? Hanging out with her might not be the best idea because, well, you know..." Harry folds his arms while standing metres from the barrier.

"I'm obviously not going to invite her over to our place. Think I'll stick to Muggle places just for safety. Besides, I can handle myself if needed, and it'll be a good way to keep track of the Dark Lord. You know the Mark sort of corresponds with His strength, right?"

Harry nods, having already figured this out before.

"So yeah, while you're all away enjoying school I'll spend a bit of time with your friend's mom. Just between you and I, she's pretty hot, eh?"

"Sirius, she's still a Death Eater, be on your guard," replies Harry.

"Hey, anything's better than staying cooped up at my wretched home. Just thinking about being trapped there all the time is enough to make a man depressed. Don't worry, remember that twelve years in Azkaban couldn't break me. Stay safe, godson."

Harry heads through the barrier with his luggage before making his way to the Hogwarts Express. Having arrived at the station earlier than ever, he decides to board the nearly empty train and head towards a compartment. After storing his trunk above, he decides to throw a light blanket over Hedwig's cage. "Maybe you can also get some sleep, girl."

With blanket in hand, Harry now lays across the seat then wraps himself up before getting some much needed rest from an early morning. It helps that the train has yet to start, and its silence has Harry dozing off rather quickly.

Voices gradually begin to speak around him as he awakes beneath his blanket. Since it covers his face as well, he's unable to discern what's happening around him. But it's clear that he's slept for a good few hours since the train's already in motion, and abuzz with noise.

"Come on, it's been over an hour since we left. Check who's laying wrapped up in the corner," says an unknown male voice behind Harry.

"No, I say we check the owl then," says a female voice.

"No, it's sleeping, so leave it alone!" argues another female, who Harry names Girl 2 in his head. Wondering if any of these students would actually yank off his blanket, he now lays still.

"That's it, I'm checking the owl. Here, catch," says the male, as Harry hears the blanket being tossed off a hooting Hedwig.

"Oh my God, I know  _that_  owl. It's Harry Potter's!" says Girl 1.

"You'd better cover that up quickly before he wakes up," says Girl 2.

"Why should I be scared of him? He's just a puny fourth year. Besides, why are you all covering up for a Slytherin snake who speaks Parseltongue?"

Harry continues to feign sleep while hoping to hear just who this brash male happens to be. 'Puny fourth year' suggests that he's bigger and likely older than him. Judging by his distaste, Harry knows he's not in Slytherin House.

"Just cover that owl up so it keeps quiet, McLaggen," says Girl 2. Now Harry knows who he's dealing with since Cassius Warrington had mentioned an 'irritating Gryffindor' with this name.

"You girls are all so over little Potter. Lemme show you how much of a weakling wimp he really is..."

Harry hears him approach and decides to surprise the bigger student first. Right as McLaggen's hand grabs his blanket, Harry rolls over with wand in hand.

"Wake up lose—"

_"Everte Statum!"_

The compartment lights up in a flash of orange as McLaggen is sent flying out the opened door, landing in the hallway. He scrambles to his feet before loudly proclaiming Harry to be a 'sneaky coward'. Immediately, more than a few compartment doors open to view the commotion.

Back in his compartment with two Gryffindor girls, one of whom happens to be Lavender Brown, Harry winks at them. "Looks like I woke up in the middle of Gryffindor-land, ah what a lovely sleep that was. Who are you?" he asks, while looking at the startled young girl seated before him with a gawking expression.

Lavender scowls slightly before speaking, "You didn't have to blast McLaggen like that, Potter. Now he's gonna have it in for you. Your friends are farther down the hallway, so please leave Romilda and I alone."

"Romilda? Pretty name for a little lion." Harry stores his blankets in the trunk then grabs Hedwig's cage before exiting the compartment. He then stands right before the clearly bigger McLaggen who seems ready for some Muggle fighting. "You asked for it,  _Cormac._ "

"You're overrated, man. Think you're pretty good at Quidditch, huh? Well guess what? Oliver Wood's freed up spot means I get to try out for Keeper. Mark my words when I say you're not scoring a single thing. So go back to being a nimble little Seeker."

"I know your type. Big, brash boys always picking on the little guys, well"—Harry nods his head towards the hallway on his left—"this ain't your usual type of little guy. So I suggest you back off, wannabe confident bully."

"Oh yeah? Who's gonna stop me from putting you in your place, arrogant Slytherin tosser?"

"Ahem." Pansy stands metres away to Harry's left. Beside her are Daphne, Millicent, Tracey, and Sally-Anne.

McLaggen appears genuinely amused. "I guess it's true what they say about Harry Potter always hiding behind girls. You need to man up and fight your own battles already."

"Look again and see that there's more." Harry smiles smugly as, standing behind the handful of girls, are some of the Slytherin Quidditch team. This includes Marcus Flint, who's cracking his knuckles, Cassius Warrington, and Lucian Bole.

"Oh great, it's this guy again," says an annoyed Warrington.

"None of you Slytherins can stand alone like us Gryffindors," mutters McLaggen, before heading into the compartment and shutting the door.

"Let's head back, men. See you later, Harry," says Flint, before turning around and returning to his compartment. The sudden first name basis since the World Cup still leaves Harry rather confused. Though his thoughts are interrupted as he's approached by a slightly changed Pansy.

"Whoa, what happened to you? I mean you've always been pretty but now you're like... improved," admits Harry. He notes how Pansy's bob hairstyle appears an inch longer since the World Cup. Her back and sides now lengthened below chin level.

She walks up to him with a smile, "Thank you." But then grabs him by his chest and hauls him down the hallway towards their compartment. Before Harry can even greet the girls, he's tossed onto the seat before something soft is thrown in his face.

"What's this?"

Daphne cackles with laughter, "Happy start of school, on behalf of all of us. So, looks like Pansy's already showing you her dress robes. If that's what you'd call them—OW!"

After kicking Daphne against the leg, a smirking Pansy pulls the clothing off Harry's face before speaking. "I don't care about the  _tradition_  of boys asking girls out, but I want you to come to the ball with me this year, Harry James Potter."

A wave of confused shock sweeps over him. "What ball? I don't even know why we all gotta have dress robes for this year."

Gasps of bewilderment echo across the compartment of six. "The Yule Ball! Wait, you honestly have no idea of what's happening this year? But I thought Arthur Weasley would've told you all, since he's in the Ministry," says a surprised Pansy.

Harry shakes his head, clearly unaware of anything that's happening.

Tracey then sighs, clearly expressing her surprise at Harry's ignorance. "Pansy heard it from her cousin, and we all heard it from Malfoy about what's happening this year. Speaking of which, Daphne, you're coming with me to the ball."

"Cool, yeah. Saves me the trouble of waiting for a boy, so I'll be the girly one in  _dress_ robes."

"Haha, I doubt there'll be many girls going together. Guess I'll have to wait for a guy," says Millicent, who Harry notes as really having gotten increasingly attractive since last year.

"That won't be an issue for me, 'cos I just  _know_ that they'll be lining up to take me out," says a confident Sally-Anne, as pretty as ever.

"Didn't Draco ask you to the ball already?" asks Pansy, before Sally-Anne laughs.

"Oh yeah! I forgot about that, bet he's more doing it 'cos of blood status and stuff. But at least he's not gonna be embarrassing himself with an ugly one at the ball, oh no. I'm gonna look so good."

"By the way, Harry, I really think you should take a look at what Pansy's decided to wear. Seriously, look at that!" states Millicent, before pointing out the black-coloured...

"Victorian era tailcoat! I felt like being a bit more boyish at the ball.  _Dress_  robes my arse," says a giggling Pansy.

"Wait a minute..." Harry looks at her in a questioning manner. "Who told you to wear this?"

Pansy winces at what she thinks could be disappointment on Harry's face. "My mom said a certain someone told her it'd be a good match for her partner."

"Sirius, you dog!" laughs Harry, much to the confusion of his girls. "Take a look at  _my_  dress robes." He stands up to open his trunk and retrieve his much similar style of formal wear. Though Pansy's appears a tad more feminine.

"No bloody way," she gasps, followed by the others expressing their surprise as well. "We literally  _are_  a matching couple for the ball. This is absolutely, mentally, blimey, amazingly... NUTS! Lemme see that... oh gosh this snake at the back is SO COOL! Why didn't I think of that?"

Pointing from Harry's robes to Pansy's, Tracey speaks, "So your Sirius pal told Pansy's mom to get that robes to match her partner. Yet you weren't even aware of the ball at that point nor were you technically her partner. They so totally got you two hooked up for the ball that it's funny!"

Daphne ends up falling over Tracey as they laugh loudly. Meanwhile, Sally-Anne and Millicent begin speculating on the supposed friendship between Mrs. Parkinson and Sirius Black.

"You look quite thoughtful, Harry. Lemme guess, you wanted to ask  _Granger_  to the ball?" asks Pansy, while sitting down beside Harry on the seat.

"I didn't even know there was a ball, duh. But if I did then she would've been a strong contender for my asking, yes. But hey, premeditated or not, this arrangement suits me perfectly fine. We're so gonna steal the show with our nearly matching tailcoats."

Pansy looks up with a confident expression. "That's not the only thing I'm hoping to be proud of. All of us here are hoping that you can somehow compete in the Tournament, my Potter boy. If there's gonna be a Champion it simply HAS to be a Slytherin. Preferably you, because you're the best."

"What tournament?"

"Oh for the love of... For f's sake will somebody  _please_  enlighten him with regards to the Triwizard Tournament?" asks Sally-Anne. "Confidential information or not, there's a tiny few of us who know about it."

"I'm guessing it's something to do with three wizards? But then again that's a unisex term I think, so it's three anybodies," says Harry.

After letting out a deliberately exaggerated groan, Pansy explains as much as what she's heard about this year. Both Draco and Alyssa's hints are combined to understand just what's planned. Though they be minimal information indeed.

"Three tasks for three competitors of three schools? No wonder it's got a  _Tri_  in its name. Darn, that sounds brilliant. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons coming to visit sounds amazing!" says Harry excitedly.

"That means Viktor Krum's gonna be here too. Oh my gosh this could be it, girls! The dream match we've all been waiting for," says Daphne.

"Yes! I totally and utterly and completely agree. It's time for our little Harry to spread his wings and show the world just how great of a Quidditch player he is. By flying against the Bulgarian Seeker," declares Millicent.

"Whoa there, that's going a bit far. I'm good but it's all my dad's talent—"

"RUBBISH!" Pansy nearly slaps him. "Don't you  _ever_  put yourself down like that, Mister Potter. Krum's great but I gave you most of his flying on the omnioculars, remember? And no, I'm not gonna spew rubbish about  _believe in yourself_. We all know that you're a kick-arse flyer, so prove it."

"Okay, no need to get so dramatic about it," replies Harry, who reclines back in his seat to enjoy the rest of the journey to Hogwarts. The topic of the World Cup has him admitting his regrets at not being able to locate the other girls at the camp, to which he is eventually forgiven.

At some point during the journey, Harry and the girls hear the sound of shattering glass nearby, followed by Draco cackling. With everyone back in their compartments, Harry uses his Invisibility Cloak to creep towards where the commotion had occurred. He then overhears Ron complaining about his own  _horrendous_  dress robes while he and Hermione seem quite ignorant of the upcoming Tournament.

Having heard enough, Harry heads back towards his own compartment before stashing away the Cloak. With the train nearing its destination, Harry and the girls begin changing into their school uniforms. But as Pansy stands in her pink underwear the door opens to reveal Draco, Crabbe and Goyle. Harry almost instinctively uses his robes to swiftly cover her up.

"So I take it you've heard about this year's events, Potter?" asks Draco, while looking into the room where most have already changed.

"Definitely, you thinking of entering?"

"Might as well, considering the glory and all that. Let the best wizard or witch or whatever win," says Draco, before shutting the door and returning to his compartment.

"Here, thanks, even though it doesn't bother me much to be like this. Got nothing to hide because everything looks good, right?" Pansy tosses the school robes back to Harry, who stands in shirt, tie and trousers.

"Oh you bet, I'll never understand how you girls keep this good-looking without being very active. Must be magic I guess." Harry slips on his robes once everyone else has finished dressing.

They soon step out into the darkness of night at Hogsmeade Station, under a tremendous downpour. With the first years racing through the rain towards Hagrid at the boats, Harry and the rest soon board the horseless carriages. After a rather cold journey towards the castle, they step out and race up the stairs into the Entrance Hall.

"Aaaa!" shrieks Pansy, upon being hit by a water balloon courtesy of Peeves the Poltergeist. The little man hovers mischievously in the air before hurling balloons towards the mass of students gathered in the hall. Ron, Hermione, Neville, and a few others end up getting hit before Harry groans.

"Son of a b—" He draws his wand and takes aim at the cackling poltergeist. "You like laughing eh?  _Rictusem—"_

"Potter, that's quite enough," says McGonagall, after having exited the Great Hall only to slip across the flooring. She grabs hold of another student to regain her balance before finally chasing off Peeves and ushering everyone into the Great Hall.

"Why's Potter always so violent?" asks some student elsewhere in the crowd before they all step into the Hall. Slytherin's tables appear to be to their near left while Gryffindor sits to the near right. Then, between the staff and Slytherin tables sit Hufflepuff while Ravenclaw sits between the staff and Gryffindor tables.

"Not violent,  _vigilant_ ," says a voice standing right at the doors to the Hall.

"Who's that? Our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" asks another student somewhere, before McGonagall requests that he sit down.

"Alastor, please take your seat at the table so we can all get started."

Moody nods but not before turning to look at Harry standing before the rest of the crowd. "You alright, Potter? That was some decent reactions there."

"Thank you, sir." Harry watches Moody walk forward towards the staff table, his appearance drawing much comments from the crowd. Soaked and irate, Harry and the rest of the Slytherins soon make their way towards their table. "Want some warmth, Pansy?"

She nods while sitting at the end of the table, before Harry uses the opportunity of the drenched first years entering to duck under it. Knowing that he's only got a few minutes before questions are raised, Harry stealthily casts a hot-air charm over Pansy's soaked shoes, drying off some of their wetness. He then casts  _Tergeo_ , somewhat effectively, to siphon off some more liquid. A tapping on the head from Tracey beside him then has Harry hurriedly returning to his seat.

"Feeling better?" he asks, to which Pansy smiles and winks. From behind him, many first years moan and groan about the terrible conditions outside. Somewhere along the line Harry hears the voice of little Irma Flint, determined to one day make it on the Quidditch team.

Harry recalls having missed the Sorting in his second year courtesy of being locked up at Privet Drive. He'd only arrived later with Dumbledore's intervention. Then, last year saw him passed out from dementors. But this time he smiles upon getting to see the new batch of students and their anticipation. With the Sorting Hat placed upon a three-legged stool, it soon sings its rather lengthy song, though different than in Harry's first year.

"Shame, it must be bored as hell to think up a new song all year long for the next. At least people like you gave it some entertainment, Harry," says Daphne, seated beside Pansy.

"Don't make me go up there and ask it to place me in Gryffindor," he responds, with a mischievous grin.

"I would punish you if you ever tried such a foolish thing," says Pansy.

"Punish?"

"You and I in the Prefect's Bathroom, doesn't matter if we're not Prefects yet. Give it say... a couple hours and some  _fun_. Got the picture, Potter baby?"

As the Sorting ceremony takes place, Harry tries to remember whoever ends up in his House, but finds it quite difficult to do. Malcolm Baddock receives applause from Slytherin, and hissing sounds from Fred and George at the Gryffindor table as he takes his seat. Later, Irma Flint joins Slytherin as expected, and Harry stands up to start the round of applause.

"THAT'S MY SISTER, YEAH!"

"Thank you, Mr. Flint," says Professor McGonagall, before continuing the Sorting. Later, Graham Pritchard joins Slytherin, in addition to more students whose names Harry fails to remember. Dumbledore soon starts the feast by saying  _"Tuck in_ , before empty dishes magically fill before their eyes.

"Yes! Time to eat—Hey!" Harry groans as Pansy swipes his empty plate then loads it with all sorts of food.

"Feast for my possible Champion, now EAT, itty bitty baby Potter," she says, before shoving the stacked plate in his hands. Her narrow-eyed scowl has him soon eating obediently.

"She's got you good, Harry," laughs Millicent.

"Got 'em right by the Golden Snitch, hahaha. The only guy in the whole school who Pansy's got a soft spot for," says Sally-Anne.

Harry continues to eat while being constantly watched by Pansy opposite him, to the point of softly laughing.

"Did I say you can giggle?"

"No, ma'am."

"Good."

Eventually, once everything has been thoroughly devoured, the Great Hall is silenced as Dumbledore speaks at his owl lectern. He first introduces the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, before moving on to the start of term talk. This includes topics such as the updated list of forbidden-items, viewable in Mr. Filch's office, the Forbidden Forest being forbidden, and Hogsmeade being off-limits to those below third year.

"Now, as for the Inter-House Quidditch Cup, I'll have to announce that it's been stopped—"

Cries of protests and begging echo throughout the Great Hall, few louder than Harry and Flint at the Slytherin table.

"SILENCE! Thank you. Now as I was saying, it's been stopped from taking place throughout the entire school year. Due to an event that will be starting in October, we've decided to condense the Cup and its rules."

"What? I hope they're not gonna screw this up," mutters Harry towards his girls.

"For this year I'm afraid our teams will have to make do with the entire Cup running from start of November to January. That means the six matches will be played over three months, so two per month. It will require considerable changes in training but I'm sure you'll adapt. Also do note that due to the early culmination of the Quidditch Cup in the year, all points scored by the teams will only contribute half towards the House Cup. This is to prevent demotivation next year, should the Quidditch Cup winner have a considerable lead on the points tally."

Harry nods before whispering, "That makes sense, suppose we win with like 500 total by January, it'll only be 250 towards the House Cup. Fair play for all."

"We also have the honour of hosting an event which has not been held for over a century. The Triwizard Tournament!"

Stunned silence fills the Hall before one of the Weasley twins speak, "You're must be JOKING!"

"I am certainly not joking, but come to think of it there was this one about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun walking into a bar—"

McGonagall politely asks him to continue with his speech. Once back on track, Dumbledore provides a brief history of the Tournament, which schools will be participating, and the use of a Champion representing each school. Though he notes how previously high death tolls had forced the closing of the Tournament, until now.

"So the Heads of Durmstang and Beauxbatons will be arriving with their shortlists in October. Selection of the three Champions will take place at Halloween..." Dumbledore proceeds to explain about an 'impartial judge' who'd be selecting these contestants. He then mentions the glory of winning the Cup to both school and student. The latter of which also receives a significant amount of prize money. "A thousand galleons!"

The wave of euphoria and excitement is quelled by the sudden mention of an age restriction, which causes an immediate uproar in the Great Hall.

"SILEEEEEEEENCE!" The Hall settles down before Dumbledore resumes speaking, "I therefore beg you not to waste your time if you're under seventeen." He finishes his speech by letting everyone know that the foreign students would be staying for the greater portion of the year. This is followed by having everyone leave for their common rooms as bedtime nears.

Later, in the common room, Daphne slams her fist against a table. "What a bunch of absolute cock! Who the hell are we going to cheer on now, eh? Not many likable seventeen year olds around."

Harry sighs, clearly dejected upon failing to see any way of getting himself into the legendary event. It hardly helps that Pansy and the others were hoping that he'd get in, so that they could support a 'lovable' face. But with classes about to start soon, everyone hurries to their beds for an early night. Harry soon finds himself laying in bed while daydreaming about winning the Cup. He imagines himself standing triumphantly before crowds of adoring fans, and a proud Sirius Black.


	8. Fourth-Year Fun

History of Magic turns out to be the Slytherin fourth years' first lesson back at school.

"Looks like we're sharing this lesson with the Ravenclaws, great, let's hope those braniacs don't ask too many questions," says Sally-Anne, while walking ahead of the girls and Harry. They soon arrive at Classroom 4F where Harry fondly recalls having been taught the Patronus last year by Lupin.

"The fact that your Patronus is supposedly a snake makes it even more imperative that you represent us in the Tournament," says Tracey, who walks beside Daphne as the Slytherins enter the classroom. "Is it really a snake? Hard to believe you can even cast a corporeal one."

Harry picks out the last seats available in the middle and right rows for the group of six to take. "Oh don't worry, I'll be sure to show my silver snake at our Quidditch match, yeah. Would make a perfect entrance mascot thing to do," he says.

"You just want to show off for the foreign students, hmph." Daphne whips out her textbook and declares that she'll try to focus in class.

Soon the Ravenclaws enter, which includes: Terry Boot, Mandy Brocklehurst, Michael Corner, Stephen Cornfoot, Kevin Entwhistle, Anthony Goldstein, Su Li, Morag MacDougal, Padma Patil, and Lisa Turpin. Having never shared this class with the Slytherins provides some degree of refreshment for all. Although the second History of Magic, later in the week, would not be shared. So is the trend on both House's timetables for the year.

"Sorry, no Gryffindors allowed near me," says Harry, while sniggering as Padma sits at the desk on his left.

"Very funny, Potter."

"How do I not know that you're actually Parvati disguised in Ravenclaw colours? Is there a birthmark or something I can check out for proof?" He laughs softly as Pansy, seated to his right, snorts.

"Crack all the perverted jokes you'd like, but let's see how long it'll be before you're half-asleep from Binns," replies Padma, before taking out her textbook and awaiting the Professor.

Seated on Padma's left, Corner speaks, "Is he messing with you, Padma? Hey, Potter, don't jeopardize our learning experience in this class."

Harry taps on Pansy's desk, signalling her to retaliate. "Shut up, Corner, and stop trying to fight with Harry. You might get hurt."

"Where's Binns? I need my late morning nap," sneers Draco, before the ghostly Professor finally glides through the wall to stand before his desk. "Great, let's get this boring class over with already."

Indeed, even Harry agrees that a change of year has done little to spice up this class. But he somehow manages to keep his wits about and endure the seemingly endless drawling tone of Binns. At some point, Harry momentarily hits the desk with his forehead while falling asleep, but swiftly recovers.

"Where's the arrogant Harry Potter now, hmm?" whispers Padma, who Harry frowns at before the class finally ends. Once most of the students have left, Harry walks up to Draco who's sleeping on his textbook. Crabbe and Goyle both snoozing as well.

"Let's leave him snoozing like a little blond baby," laughs Sally-Anne, who tiptoes past Draco while headed for the door. But Harry decides to tap him on the shoulder, to which he soon starts mumbling.

"No, mother, I've got enough sweets already for today—Huh?" Draco swiftly sits up and packs his book. "You heard nothing..." he adds, before elbowing Crabbe and Goyle awake to head for their next class.

From the drawling of Binns they exit the castle and make their way across the grounds. The chilly breeze beneath overcast skies serves to wake Harry and his Housemates up before they're joined by the Gryffindors at Hagrid's Hut. While Ron walks in front of his handful of boys, Harry remains between his girls. The rest of the male Slytherins walking behind Draco as everyone looks to see a rather excitable Hagrid.

After hearing about—and being truly surprised by—these 'Blast-Ended Skrewts', nearly everyone in the class show clear reluctance to get up close with one. Although merely a few inches long while in their crates, it's evident that these little ones could grow to dangerous proportions someday.

"And why exactly would any of us want to raise them?" asks a disgusted Draco, in response to Hagrid wishing to give the Skrewts as their projects. The question draws appreciative laughs from Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Zabini while Hagrid appears stumped.

"Sod off, Malfoy," says Ron, while standing metres away and glaring at the sneering Slytherin.

"I just want to know what do they  _do?_ What is the  _point_  of these things?"

Hagrid appears truly uncomfortable at the hostility aimed at him, and responds rather softly. "Tha's fer our next lesson. Now yeh'll all be feedin' 'em today, might wan' ter try diff'rent things: ant eggs, frog livers, or maybe a bit o' grass snake. Not sure what they'll go fer. Any volunteers ter go first?"

"No way am I sticking my hands in there. Only one person brave enough in this class". Draco glances towards Harry, who shrugs.

"Sure, be glad to see what these little guys can do."

"That's the spirit, Harry, good on yeh!" Hagrid smiles before hurrying over to pass him a bit of frog liver, though it appears that the skrewts lack proper mouths to feed.

After lowering his hand into the box, Harry suddenly drops the liver upon being hit by the exploding end of the skrewt. "Ow! Looks like it burned my hand a bit."

As Hagrid worriedly checks Harry's hand, Pansy can't help but groan angrily. "Don't ruin those nice hands, argh, what's the point?"

Everything appears fine before Harry tries a different bit of food to tempt the skrewts, only to narrowly avoid getting stung this time.

"I reckon they're the males. Females've got 'em sucker things on their bellies. Migh' be ter suck blood. Thanks fer havin' a go, Harry, ten points ter Slytherin!"

As he returns to his side of the crowd, Harry overhears Seamus whispering. "Potter's mental, I'd never do all that for a bit of House points. First pus in Herbology and now this."

"Well at least he tried, unlike you. Although I must admit these things are quite dangerous indeed," whispers Hermione, before Hagrid soon has everyone trying out the various foods on the skrewts.

Having volunteered gives Harry leeway to simply walk around and watch the others moan and groan. He deliberately walks between the Gryffindors, much to their confusion. Though he decides to pester the girls a bit for his own amusement.

"Watch your hands, Patil. Oops, better be careful there, Brown. Oh no, don't screw up, Midgen."

"Get stuffed, Potter!" retorts Lavender Brown.

Harry now approaches the crates where Hermione and Fay appear to be hesitantly feeding. The former folds her arms and gives him a tight-lipped smile.

"Come to gloat at us too, Harry? Mister Thinks-He-Knows-It-All here," says Hermione, while Fay sniggers beside her.

"Oh I just came to see what effect bushy hair has on these things, hahaha. As for you, Fay Dunbar, try not to break a nail."

Fay slightly scowls at him, "Oh so funny, Harry Potter. Why not work off your frustrations with those handful of girls?"

Harry smirks before leaning over the crate to look straight at Fay, while Hermione rolls her eyes. "How about you practice your aspiring Beater's skills on my bat?"

"Oh my G—" Hermione begins ushering him away from the startled Fay, before she whispers. "Go back to your side of the class, Mr.  _Chudley Cannon_."

"Hey when you're done playing with  _Granger_  how about getting this nonsense done for us?" asks Draco, while looking with disgust into his crate. Both Crabbe and Goyle seem to be struggling beside him.

Harry spends the rest of the class taking over Draco's attempted feeding of the skrewts—causing the latter to sit smugly against a tree—before overhearing Pansy's whispers.

"Don't push Harry, Granger!"

"I'll do whatever I like to him, Parkinson."

"That's my area of expertise, not yours, Muggleborn."

"Hmph!"

" _Hmph_  Right back at you, Gryffindork."

Lunchtime soon arrives and passes without incident before the Slytherins head for their third and final class of today: Charms. According to their timetables they're due for a free period afterwards, giving them much time to relax before dinner this evening.

But since it's their first day of classes, Flitwick has them doing revision over previous charms learned. He plans on using up today and tomorrow's lessons to ensure everyone's ready for this year. They practice through a list including the levitation, freezing, seize-and-pull, wand-lighting, and cheering charms, which are set to be revised tomorrow as well.

Once back in the common room after dinner, Harry and the rest spot an announcement on the notice board. It appears that the first Quidditch match scheduled for the year is Hufflepuff against Slytherin.

"They've changed the date, come check this out!" says Millicent, after having worked her way through the crowd circling the board. "The match is at 11am on the 31st of October, I guess they're really cramming in the Cup this year."

Harry suddenly feels a wave of excitement sweep over him as he stands before the dozens of students. "Bloody hell, and the other schools arrive at dinner on the 30th. We've gotta make an epic first impression on our foreign spectators."

"No screwing around, Quidditch practice begins end of this month. I've got a feeling Hufflepuff will be coming at us full force to avenge themselves from last year!" declares Flint, much to the excitement of the crowd gathered in the dimly lit common room.

With tomorrow's first class being double Defence Against the Dark Arts until lunch, Harry heads to bed rather early. He's heard some good things—though not from his own House—regarding Moody, and therefore wishes to make a decent first impression. The next day sees him up and early before freshening up and heading to the Great Hall for breakfast.

"I'm prepared for any amount of flak Moody will give me. Especially with regards to my mom repeatedly having evaded him back then," says Pansy, while sitting beside Harry at the end of the Slytherin table.

Sally-Anne offers her a smile before speaking, "I'm glad my family weren't 'worthy enough' to become Death Eaters. Mum always said she and dad couldn't really fight too well. Take that as a compliment for your mum."

"Thanks, much appreciated." Pansy now turns to look at Harry before smiling. "I guess with your legendary history and tragically killed parents, Moody will take an instant liking to you."

Millicent laughs, though needing to swallow her food before speaking. "Hopefully, favouritism for Harry means benefits for us. Lupin was pretty cool last year, right?"

"Definitely, so throw a bit of charm out there today and earn us some brownie points," adds Tracey. "Not like my family has any Death Eaters in them, no reason to fear Moody's wrath."

"Let's make a deal with our Harry boy. If he manages to get us all in Moody's good books then we'll each offer him a dance at the Ball," says Daphne haughtily.

"Four years of friendship and I have to work for a dance from my own friends," says Harry incredulously.

"That's life, otherwise you can find another blonde beauty to get a dance with. Good luck finding one who Miss Parkinson wouldn't mind," replies Daphne, before Pansy speaks.

"You could snog Harry at the Ball for all I care, Daphne. 'Cos I know that he'll one day know who's the right girl for him. Alright, let's head to class."

As the group of six stand up from the table, Tracey can't help but grin. "Doesn't seem like Gryffindor, or anyone else in our year for that matter, has had Defence yet. Feels great to be getting a head-start in the week."

They race to the serpentine corridor on the third floor before making their way towards Classroom 3C. Having already heard about Moody's personality from Tonks causes Harry to stop his girls at the closed door, since they're the first to arrive.

"What gives?" asks Millicent.

"I've got a sneaky suspicion... Lemme go in first." Harry draws his wand then slowly enters the classroom. A flash of red streaks through the air to his left before Harry raises his wand.  _"Protego!"_

Scarlet smashes through his shield charm, sending him flying back against the wall while his wand is caught by Moody. The latter now appearing pleased. "5 Points to Slytherin, Harry Potter. Never mind the failing shield charm but that was the kind of vigilance I expect my class to have."

The girls rush into the classroom after each other, each being caught ill-prepared until Pansy enters last. She manages to throw up a shield charm which shatters upon impact.

"Ha! Figures the daughter of Holly Parkinson would know what to expect. Tell your mother she won't get lucky if we meet on the battlefield again." Moody then tosses their wands back before letting them choose their seats, and requesting that they keep shut about the non-verbal disarming test. Minutes later...

"Why's it so quiet in her—" Draco is sent flying against a wall, before storming to grab a seat. Crabbe and Goyle manage to end up hit together by one spell before Nott and Zabini also happen to be caught off-guard.

"ARE YOU MAD?" yells Nott, before Moody grins and walks over to his desk.

"Mad? Of course I am! Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody is the name, in case you've forgotten. Now it seems that only two of you all were vigilant enough for this morning's test. UNACCEPTABLE!"

As Moody walks over towards the blackboard, Harry hears Zabini whispering from a few desks behind him. "Why's he shouting as well? This is nuts."

"I heard that. Now, ROLL CALL!" Moody unrolls a piece of parchment before reading through their names. His normal eye going through the list while his magical one locks onto the student who answers. Surprisingly, the comments towards Draco, Pansy, Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle don't seem to be as degrading as expected. Though Harry receives as much praise as he'd have thought.

"Right, now that that's done..." Moody pulls out a flask from his pocket before taking a sizable swig. He then both startles and amuses the class by burping loudly before continuing. "Ah, man's gotta have his drink, yes. Very important to keep hydrated."

Harry's fit of laughter has Pansy and Daphne trying to stifle theirs, until finally the front row goes quiet again. Everyone now sits with a copy of their textbooks upon their desk, which Moody notes they won't be needing for today. He then goes on to compliment Lupin's curriculum, claiming that they have a 'solid' foundation. Although he notes that they're behind on dealing with Curses.

"The first part of Defence is knowing how to actually defend yourself. For example: Parkinson's mother didn't evade me by simply running. She fought back all the time until only then running away. Offence is just as important."

Pansy snorts at the remarks, and appears rather smug while hearing about her mother giving Moody the slip.

"Who are these idiots? Remus was good yes, respectable gentleman. But Quirrell and Lockhart? What were they thinking hiring them for this class? Anyway, first part of this class will be an assessment. Each of you will take me on, let's see who lasts the longest before getting disarmed. Right, Bulstrode first!"

"Wish me luck," whispers Millicent, before standing up as the desks are arranged against the classroom walls. Harry and the rest now standing as far away as possible, under the protection of shield charms.

"Right, here we go, put up that wand, Bullstrode, and fight like you mean it. Parkinson, take your hand off Potter's backside!"

Harry glances quizzically beside him only to see a startled Pansy hurriedly folding her arms before speaking, "It's like he can see through stuff or something."

"Got caught red-handed, hahaha. That's what you get for being naughty, Pansy," says Daphne teasingly. Meanwhile, Harry hears Nott scoff from somewhere in the crowd gathered along the wall.

Working his way through the class list, Moody disarms every student as they attempt to duel him. He allows them to use anything they've learned at school or from textbooks against him. By the time Zabini is blasted back by an  _Expelliarmus_ , Moody scribbles down the final count on a piece of parchment.

"According to my watch, it seems that Davis has put up the best fight at 37 seconds. I'm expecting far better from all of you next time. Right, split into groups of 3 and let's practice some duels. Because in real life you don't always fight nice and cosy one-on-one! Ah, I see there's 11 of you here. Fine, doesn't matter," says Moody, before splitting up the class.

As the duels commence between students split up into groups, Harry finds himself battling Draco and Sally-Anne. They, in turn, are up against him and each other as spells of all kind go flying around the class, much to Moody's laughter.

"BE VIGILANT! Spells could be flying in from anywhere now, other groups misfiring, etc. That's it, Perks, good! Nott, don't let Zabini get the upper hand like that. Crabbe and Goyle, wake up there, yes that's slightly better. Potter, good jinxing there. Come on, Malfoy, your father wouldn't approve of those duelling skills!"

Some take offense from the comments but others, such as Harry, can't help but laugh as the skirmishes continue around the class. Duelling may be painful and difficult at times, but Harry reckons this may be one of the most enjoyable Defence classes he's yet had.

With Draco disarmed, this leaves Harry going up against Sally-Anne near the corner of the classroom. She smiles mischievously, while her brown eyes look straight into Harry's, as if trying to unnerve him.

_"Flipendo!"_

"Ha, you missed," taunts Sally-Anne, who side-steps swiftly enough that her lengthy brunette hair swishes about.  _"Depulso!"_

With little room to manoeuvre, Harry throws up a  _Protego_  which deflects the banishing charm. The spell now sent back towards its caster. Back and forth they jinx and hex one another before Harry catches Sally-Anne in a full body-bind curse. This is followed by disarming her then undoing the spell. By the end of the mass skirmishing, it's just Harry and Pansy left as they decide to face each other.

"Come on, mommy's girl, I'm waiting," taunts Harry as he takes aim at the grinning girl.

"Less talk, more duelling!" shouts Moody, while standing in front of the classroom to observe the two students in its centre.

"Come on, Potter, don't lose to a girl," mutters Draco, as he walks past Harry to stand at the back of the classroom.

"I'm not going to go easy on you,  _Rictusempra!"_  shrieks Pansy, as she fires off the tickling spell towards Harry.

_"Everte Statum!"_ The spells collide in mid air.  _"Tarantallegra!"_ Harry laughs as a scowling Pansy ends up dancing uncontrollably before she casts  _Finite_   _Incantatem._  This is followed by Harry casting a knockback jinx.

_"Protego!_ Ha, I can do it quite well too. Dodge this, Boy-Who-Lived,  _Everte Statum! Petrificus Totalus!"_ Pansy's spells come streaking towards Harry, who blocks one and side-steps the other.

_"Stupefy!"_

"Oh no you didn't"—Pansy ducks out the way before gesturing him a middle finger— "Take a chill pill, boy,  _Glacius!"_

Freezing cold air blasts towards Harry, who counters with a hot-air charm. Where the spells collide, Pansy's cold air pushes the hot air charm upwards before sending Harry tumbling backwards. "Damn, should've watched the weather more often," he mutters to himself while getting up.

Pansy hops up and down in delight while the class takes to cheering both on. Though Nott and Zabini prefer to side with her. Meanwhile, the four girls deliberately cheer predominantly for Harry which elicits a nose-in-the-air "Hmph!" from Pansy.

_"Expelliarmus!"_

Harry's spell narrowly misses its evasive target who fires off her own jet of red. With both spells missing their intended recipient, Pansy soon taunts Harry with a shoulder shaking little dance.

"Oh very cute,  _Rictusempra!"_

"Do you aim skew with everything, hmm? Haha,  _Flipendo!"_ Pansy hits Harry square in the abdomen, knocking him backwards.

"Get up and fight, Harry Potter," says Moody.

After getting to his feet, Harry ducks another spell from Pansy before finally hitting her with a disarming charm. Seconds later, he stands smiling at the 10" of ebony gripped in his palm.

"Good work, Potter, last man standing!" says Moody, before ushering the students to their seats. Pansy, meanwhile, walks up to Harry with her arm outstretched.

"My wand please."

"Mine's an inch longer," he replies teasingly.

"Mine's made of ebony, beat that!" She swipes back her wand before tucking it in her pocket.

"Your mom's name is my wand's wood, yes I just said that," replies Harry, while holding his wand made of holly before Pansy.

"Hmph! Smart-mouth."

"You know you like it." Harry laughs as Pansy drags him over to their seats at the front of the class. The remaining hour is spent discussing and observing a rather unexpected topic of the three Unforgivable Curses.

_Crucio_ is discussed and demonstrated on a spider by Moody, who then moves on to  _Imperio_. The latter drawing much comments regarding certain Death Eaters' claims of being subjected under it to avoid Azkaban.

"I'm looking at you, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, and Parkinson. Consider your parents very lucky to not be withering away in jail," growls Moody, who then moves on to the Killing Curse. Now Harry just knows all eyes are on him.

"There's only one person known to have survived it, and he's sitting right in this classroom."

Harry looks around, over his shoulder. "I wonder who that is?"

"Just some pretty boy that I know," mutters a smiling Pansy, before winking at him.

"Pity your parents aren't here to see you grow up. Good people those were, Lily and James I mean. Right! Watch and see why this is the worst of the lot,  _Avada Kedavra!_ "

A jet of green lights up the room before the little spider falls limp, right before Harry. Though his expression remains remarkably calm before his surprised classmates, he feels slightly guilty. None of them are aware of just how eerily similar this demonstration happens to be. For Harry's used the Killing Curse—albeit fairly weaker—before.

"You alright there, Potter?" asks Moody.

"Was just thinking a bit. No problems here," replies Harry calmly.

Daphne whispers beside him as Moody walks towards the blackboard to leave notes on each of the three Curses. "You sure you're alright? I mean, everything famous about you revolves around  _that_  spell. Plus all the tragedy and stuff."

"No, really, I'm perfectly fine, Daphne."

Once class has finished, Moody asks that Harry stay for brief chat. Since it's 11:30 and lunch break ends at 1, Harry obliges. But Pansy's presence beside him has Moody slightly frowning.

"I said Potter, not you, Parkinson. You can meet up and chat later, right now I want a word with your friend." The tone in his voice has Pansy reluctantly exiting the room. "And no eavesdropping because I'll know you're there! Potter, sit down so long."

He gestures for Harry to take a seat while Pansy heads down the serpentine corridor towards the Great Hall.

"You knew my parents?" asks Harry, once seated in a desk opposite Moody's table.

"Of course, bloody fine folks at that. Gave the Dark Lord much to wonder about, I'd guess. Now you're probably wondering why you're here? Tell me: do you know what the Order of the Phoenix is?"

Shaking his head, Harry honestly appears confused.

"That's why I asked your daughter-of-a-Death-Eater friend to leave. You see, Dumbledore believes the Dark Lord is still out there, weak, but still out there." Moody then gives a brief overview of the Order, which has Harry quite impressed. Though saddened by its many fallen members, including his own parents.

"You reckon Professor Dumbledore might bring it back one day?" he asks, to which Moody nods.

"The Dark Lord's a clever scheming  _bastard_  for sure. Only a matter of time, be it days, months, or years, before he makes his return. Your parents wouldn't want their only son to grow up a weakling, Potter. So it's my job, not only as your Defence teacher, but also as an old friend of theirs to toughen you up."

Moody appears to be giving something a fair bit of thought before suddenly smiling. Though Harry reckons his scarred face simply twists up when doing so.

"I think we can use your  _brave_  lowering of marks for Granger last year to our advantage. That 50% you brought on yourself by lying to Lupin can be used to offer 'remedial lessons'."

Harry scoffs while appearing shocked, " _Remedial?_  My Housemates are gonna think I'm an idiot, Harry Potter isn't an idiot."

After whacking Harry across the shin with his walking stick, Moody gestures to his temple. "Use your brain, Potter, and THINK! That's exactly the ruse we can use to organize some additional practice for you. I don't trust any of those friends of yours, and neither should you drop your guard."

"Well, Nott hasn't been the friendliest of sorts towards me, neither Zabini too."

"Exactly my point, so, how about we try out Thursday evenings after dinner? I reckon the laddie who's the Dark Lord's arch nemesis needs all the support he can get."

Harry gives this some thought before replying, "Does Professor Dumbledore know about this?"

"Of course, I spoke to him about it myself. Feel free to ask 'em if you don't trust me. Better that way, because one must always be vigilant."

"I really appreciate it, sir."

"It's the least I can do for someone who's somewhat stopped the biggest bastard scumbag swine of the last few decades. Alright, enough touchy stuff, it's lunch time. You want to walk with an old Auror to the Great Hall?" asks Moody, to which Harry agrees. "Good, now don't go telling all your pals about the Order, you hear?"

"Understood, wouldn't want Voldemort or his followers getting hints on Dumbledore's possible plans."

Moody smiles and nods, "Now you're thinking, lad. Gotta be careful around Death Eater scumbags. Pity I wasn't able to throw 'em all in Azkaban."

They now exit the classroom and head down the corridor, making their way to the Great Hall. To most other students it quickly becomes apparent that Harry's 'trying to gain favour' from the new Defence teacher. Though he doesn't much care for whatever's being gossiped around the school now. All that matters is that it seems he's gotten a second decent professor in a row for this class. With Potions and Charms being his next two classes after lunch, Harry now sits down beside his girls at the Slytherin table.


	9. Harry and Hermione

The first Potions class of this year sees the Slytherins entering in good spirits. They arrive a slight bit later than the Gryffindors, with ten minutes to go until class starts.

"Moody's cool I guess, wasn't that an interesting lesson, huh?" asks Harry, eliciting nods and agreements from his Housemates. Even better is the feeling of getting a one-up on Gryffindor, who've yet to wait until Thursday afternoon for their first Defence class. To top it off, Harry simply enjoys the sheer look of curiosity and eagerness on Hermione's face.

"Oh yes definitely, did you see those you-know-whats that he demonstrated for us?" asks Sally-Anne, as everyone but Harry begins taking their seats at their workstations.

Roger Malone of Gryffindor now sighs. "Quit trying to act all superior, you Slytherins. Yes, you got Moody before us so keep quiet."

Harry's just about to retort but soon realizes the foolishness of standing behind the closed door. It flies open, accidentally hitting him in the side, as Snape strides into class. Though the latter briefly stops to glare at him.

"Don't stand behind doors, idiot."

"Good afternoon to you too, sir," says Harry, before hurriedly walking over to his workstation. Glancing to his right along the way, he spots Hermione suppressing her laughter while shaking her head at him.

"Are you alright? That was silly though," states Pansy, once Harry takes his seat at their workstation. The lesson soon begins with Snape revising basic antidotes as well as having the students read from their textbooks. So swiftly does he speak that many students miss the added tips given which are not in their textbooks.

"Man, Snape's on a roll this afternoon. Gotta get these hints down," mutters Harry, as Pansy leans forward to whisper at him.

"Would you stop doing that? I'd prefer to keep my textbook clean and scribble on some parchment. But nooooo you decide to scribble in your textbook again. Seriously, you're making it look like trash."

"Oh shoosh man, I'll write wherever I like. Because I'm a boss," replies Harry. After hearing another bit of added info, he scribbles it near a paragraph in his book. "Besides, I'd rather have these tips in the same book rather than go hunting for bits of parchment."

"Oh crap, here comes Snape. Haha, he's gonna throttle you for messing up that textbook," says an amused Pansy. She watches as the Professor demands silence while everyone reads through the next few paragraphs. Then, minutes later, he walks around the room to question random students. Slytherins getting it slightly easier as usual while Gryffindors end up chastised.

Harry looks down as he sees Snape's shadow looming over him from behind while Pansy looks up. The prospect of being questioned now remains strong before he indeed finds himself on the receiving end.

"Potter! What serves as an antidote to a Love Potion?"

Harry turns around in his seat to look up at the imposing figure standing a metre away. "Love Potion Antidote, sir."

"A First-Year would know that. Now, describe the first three steps of brewing one." Snape smirks upon throwing in an unexpected question.

"Uh..."

"I'm waiting, and so is everyone else."

"Add four Wiggentree twigs or until it goes green. Then stir until orange and, finally, add castor oil to make it blue, sir." Harry battles to suppress his grin as Snape appears fairly annoyed at his correct response. Before walking away, the latter sports a slightly odd look as he grabs hold of Harry's textbook.

"I warned you not to mess it up like that!" whispers Pansy to Harry. Both students seeing Snape hold up the book as if looking at something strange. His brows slightly furrowed as he suddenly begins paging back numerous times.

"Something wrong, sir?"

"Quiet, Potter." Snape appears to be treating the book almost as if at the scene of a crime. "Don't write this close to the original text, imbecile. Space it out to the side."

Before Harry can respond, he finds the textbook thrown back at him before Snape walks off towards Dean Thomas' table.

"Well, that was rather weird," admits Harry.

"I thought for sure he's gonna get you for ruining your book like that. Say, don't go showing that around, eh? Mind if I take some of those notes down?"

"Sure thing, partner."

Pansy scoffs before whispering, "You trying to be like those Muggle cowboys now?"

"No, you are my partner. To the Yule Ball, duh."

"Oh, ha-ha veeery funny. Gimme that book!" She swipes it from him as the final minutes of the class is spent docking up to 10 points from Gryffindor. The clock tower bell soon sounds, signalling the end of this class. Many Gryffindors all but race out the room while various Slytherins casually stroll out.

"Meet up at Charms?" asks Pansy, upon seeing Harry being approached by Hermione.

"Yeah, sure. Save me a seat if I'm a bit late." He smiles before Pansy throws her bag over her shoulder and exits the room beside Tracey. Meanwhile, Hermione walks right up to Harry at his workstation, blocking him from leaving. "Can I help you, bushy-babe?"

"What did you learn in Defence, Harry? Why are you all so excited?" Her stern tone causing him to smile cheekily as she stands less than a metre away.

"Not gonna tell you, nope, wait until Thursday afternoon. Or go ask the Ravenclaws when they're done if you're so impatient."

Hermione frowns before moving even closer while Harry finds himself backed against his workstation. "Tell me."

Folding his arms and smiling smugly, he replies, "Trying to strong-arm me, Miss Granger? It's not going to  _work_."

"Tell me."

"How immature of you, the answer's still no. Oh, am I supposed to be scared of a bushy-haired lion looking like she's gonna claw my eyes out?" Harry grins mischievously while flicking Hermione's hair over her shoulders, before widening his eyes.

"Oh bloody h—"

"Potter! Granger!" Snape swiftly walks over to grab each of them by the shoulder. "Take your love lives out of my classroom."

Though Hermione is merely ushered to the door, Harry finds himself forcibly shoved outside. The former slightly giggles as he tumbles to the ground before her, while the door is slammed shut.

"Oh, what a strange relationship you have with Professor Snape, Harry Potter," says a blonde-haired Ravenclaw girl, who's arrived first for her Potions class.

"And you are?" asks Hermione before Harry recalls being told her name.

"I know you, heard your name's Loony Lovegood. Pleased to meet you, beautiful—Ow!" He ends up being smacked across the head by a scowling Hermione.

"Would you stop flirting with every single girl you happen to meet? Honestly, argh, seriously!"

"That's okay, he's a nice one," replies Lovegood.

"Nice one?" Hermione scoffs haughtily. "This right here is a bad one who needs to be kept under control. You don't perhaps have a leash I could borrow?"

"Perhaps you should ask Hagrid, seeing as he's quite invested in taming animals." The calm tone in Lovegood's voice at Hermione's sarcasm has both the latter and Harry taken aback. But before he can respond, he spots another Ravenclaw approaching.

"Is that Harry Potter? Hey, do yourself a favour and don't speak to Luna, she's mental. That's why they call her Loony. Just one conversation with her is enough to lower one's intelligence," says some third year Ravenclaw boy.

"Oh darn, I didn't realize that was an offensive nickname, sorry." Harry looks at Luna who's hardly bothered by it. Then he draws his wand and shoves the startled boy against the wall. "I will show you what's mental if you don't shut up and apologize. Think it's funny to bully girls?"

"Harry!" Hermione sighs before looking at Luna. "This is why I need to tame him."

"What's your problem? Let me go, okay, sorry." The boy is shoved towards the door while Luna remains smiling.

"Thank you but it's not necessary to become a Heliopath right now," says Luna, much to the confusion of Harry and Hermione.

"A what?"

"Doesn't exist, I've never seen such a thing in any book," whispers Hermione in Harry's ear.

"A fiery spirit who gallops and burns anything in its path. Like you, Harry Potter," says Luna, eliciting a smug nod from him.

"Brilliant, well, I suppose we should be off to class. Enjoy Potions, Miss Lovegood," he replies, before walking away with Hermione beside him.

While climbing the spiral staircase leading up to the viaduct entrance, she scoffs. "That girl is a little bit strange, I suppose."

Harry shakes his head before replying, "Not as strange as you, and no, I'm still not telling you anything about Moody's first class."

"Tell me." Hermione pushes him against the wall on their right, once they've stepped into the viaduct entrance.

"No, and you can pin me to the wall as much as you'd like, pretty bush, but I'm keeping shut."

"Tell me!"

"Haha no—Ouch!" Harry yelps as his ear is pulled by a stern-looking Hermione.

"Tell me or else I'll pull the other one too."

"Aren't you a feisty Muggleborn? Such a sexy glare you've got there—Aaa!" With both ears being pulled, he suddenly grabs Hermione's arms.

"What are yo—"

After turning and grabbing her into a gentle headlock, Harry laughs. "Think it's funny pulling my ears huh? Here's your answer, but I'm gonna be... beating around the bush."

"You'd better let go of me, Harry James Potter. And drop the idiom, I want the truth."

"Idiom? Oh no, I'm literally gonna beat around the bush, hahaha." Harry uses his free hand to stroke through Hermione's bushy hair repeatedly before grabbing a fistful. "Why so quiet now, Miss Granger? What did I overhear Ronald saying Snape called you last year?"

Hermione grits her teeth, then groans as she's about to hit Harry in the side. "I'm going to give you ten seconds to let go, before I make you let go."

"Oh look at the adorable, bushy,  _insufferable know-it-all_ , she's growing up so fast. Hey! No, stop it!" Harry finally releases his hold after being elbowed in the side. Then Hermione neatens her robes and glares at him once more.

"Hmph, playful little child, so immature really. Now will you tell me the details of Moody's class?" she asks firmly.

"Fine, we had some duelling and the rest you'll have to wait and see. Very interesting stuff that I found quite personal. That's it, I'm not gonna spew anything else out. Crazy arse girl."

"Oh, speaking of that word  _spew_... huh? Harry, I'm still speaking to you!" Hermione gasps as he hurries up the nearby staircase in the viaduct entrance.

Looking over its stony banister, Harry replies, "Sorry, but unlike you Gryffindors we don't have a free period now. Need to get to Charms on the double. Chat later, Miss Granger."

"I'll be in the library if you're looking," she says, before heading up the staircase at a leisurely pace. Meanwhile, Harry spends the rest of the afternoon in Charms doing practical revision with his Housemates.

In fact, much of the following morning is also spent doing revision in their first Transfiguration lessons of the year. This is followed by lunchtime where word soon spreads around the Slytherin table of Fourth-Year Gryffindors' easy day.

"Charms! They've only got Flitwick from 10:30 to 11:30 today. Can you believe this?" asks Tracey angrily.

"To be fair, everyone gets five free periods per week. It just so happens that they've got three of them today," replies Sally-Anne enviously.

"The things I could do with a one-class day..." sighs Millicent. After lunch, Harry and the rest head for their first Herbology lesson of the year, which is shared with Ravenclaw.

While working through collecting pus from bubotuber plants, Harry turns to look at Tracey beside him. "And after this comes our free period of the day. Happy now?"

She scoffs, flicks her layered hair, then groans. "I still wish we had a one-class day as well. Not fair at all. Oh man, isn't this oddly enjoyable?" Tracey squeezes a swelling on the plant which lets out thick, yellowish-green, liquid. Harry reckons that it smells of petrol in a strange way.

After finishing their pus-collection, and removing their dragon-hide gloves, the Slytherins exit the greenhouses with smiles. Some decide to play a few games until dinner while others head their separate ways. Harry's plans for the afternoon has Tracey narrowing her blue eyes at him.

"Granger? Seriously? Why the Mudblood?"

"Don't use that word!" he retorts with a sigh, as the group of six walk across the castle grounds.

"Oh, so sorry we hurt your feelings." Pansy snorts before adding, "Okay fine, just because you've agreed to be my partner I'll let you go gallivanting with Granger. Just don't bring back any of her germs."

"No hard feelings?" asks Harry.

"Go snog her in the library for all we care. It's no secret that you're head over heels for that Gryffindor," laughs Millicent. "When did that flame start? Was it when you first met her on the train? Perhaps when you beat her at Lockhart's Duelling Club?"

"Oh  _very_  funny you girls."

Daphne grins wickedly as the group now enters the castle. "Does she sit and bounce on your lap to read while you're in the library? Does she even actually do any studying when you're there? Hmm..."

"I think he shows Granger his broom skills, and I'm not talking about his actual Firebolt," says Sally-Anne, before sniggering derisively at the blushing Harry.

"I dunno what you see in her that has you so intrigued, Potter boy. But it's okay, 'cos like I always say: you'll know who's the right girl one day, hmph!" says Pansy confidently, while flicking her lengthy bob.

Tracey suddenly laughs quite loudly, before taking off her glasses to wipe her eyes. "Maybe Harry's got a kink for Muggleborn Gryffindor girls. Does it turn you on knowing you're a Slytherin who's got the hots for the enemy?"

"Enemy?"

"You're a Half-Blood, darling, you should be setting your sights on fellow Half-Bloods or even Purebloods. Either one works for us. Just be grateful we're trying to turn a blind eye to  _Granger_ ," says Daphne.

"And who says that I even look at Hermione in that way?"

Sally-Anne looks at Harry before giving a quick laugh. "Your trousers sometimes speaks volumes when you look at her. It's like an  _Engorgio_  charm going on down there, Mister."

"You girls just don't let up, do you?"

"Never, oh look there's the second floor corridor now. So go and do whatever you'd like with your bookworm girlfriend," says Pansy, as the girls head off on their own while Harry heads towards the library.

Once inside, he silently creeps over to a secluded section where he finds Hermione sitting at a table. Three books lay stacked atop one another before her, while she reads through a fourth one.

"Doing a bit of 'light reading' there, I see," whispers Harry, before seeing her smile and pull her bag off the nearby seat. She then gestures for him to sit, which he gladly accepts. "It sounded like there was something to tell me yesterday, Mugglebabe."

"Let's complete those mini-essays for Potions, and History of Magic, then we can speak. And try to focus on your work instead of the girl next to you, Mister Potter."

Harry feels his cheeks slightly heat up and redden at the remark. Though the library feels a tad stuffy today, he's grateful to be seated beside Hermione. "I see you're wearing that perfume I bought you in the holidays."

She rolls her eyes, "You mean you  _smell_  the perfume. Get it right please. Oh, I forgot that snakes sometimes have trouble smelling properly."

"Alright then, fine, be like that. But I'll have to remind you that snakes can smell using their tongue." Harry leans closer and nearly has Hermione squeal as he flicks out his tongue.

In return he gets a textbook to the head before a startled Hermione softly laughs. "Good grief, Harry James Potter!"

"Hey, you started it. Now are we going to finish our work or not? Because you're distracting us."

" _I'm_  distracting us? Oh excuse me I—" She groans upon seeing a sniggering Harry already browsing through the History of Magic textbook before them. "Hmph."

Between sneaking an affectionate glance towards Hermione, and watching for Madam Pince patrolling, Harry begins planning out his two mini-essays. Hermione, meanwhile, has been here since mid-lunch break and already planned out her essays.

"Not fair," whispers Harry. "I'll be stuck here alone when you're done writing so fast. Nobody to keep me company."

The exaggerated sadness in his voice brings an amused expression to Hermione. "No need to get so emotional. I'll still be here doing some reading while you're doing those essays. There, does that make the fragile little Slytherin happy, Your Majesty?"

"Absolutely. So, I've taken a cue from Lupin and stocked up on chocolates. Are you hungry?"

Laughing softly while out of Pince's earshot, Hermione nods. "Make it quick before Madam Pince comes back down that row."

Harry swiftly reaches into his bag to withdraw a slab of chocolate which he breaks. Then, after checking ahead and to the right for Pince, he grabs a block. "My hands are clean, I promise."

"Really now? No fiddling with any broomsticks today?" Hermione gives him an impish look before leaning closer while reading. "Sorry, too busy with this book to take those."

"Talk about laziness..." Harry gently slips the block of chocolate into her mouth while she smiles. "Chew quickly before Pince comes back."

"I'll swallow, don't worry." Something about Hermione's remark has Harry's heart briefly racing before he hides the slab. Right in the nick of time as Pince strolls down the aisle between bookshelves nearby.

"Just give a whisper if you want more," he says, before carrying on with finishing his assignments. Over the next two hours he alternates between reading, writing, and occasionally slipping a block of chocolate between Hermione's lips.

"And don't forget to clean those pearly whites as soon as possible," he says, upon leaning back in his seat after completing his work.

"Make yourself useful if you're not planning on studying any further today." Hermione lays across his lap while refusing to stop reading through her Runes textbook. "Since you keep on endlessly mentioning my hair, have at it."

"Don't mind if I do." Harry sees the relaxed smile upon Hermione's face as he runs his fingers through her bushy hair. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the stern figure of Madam Pince walks right up to their table.

"This is my library, not a place of romance. Get out!"

"She's studying and I'm not causing any distractions here. There's no reason to chase us out, ma'am," replies Harry defiantly.

"Slytherin, eh? Very well, I shall summon your Head of House to deal with this." Pince swiftly walks off to send word to Snape.

"Man, what a bitch! Can you believe her? Not our fault she's probably never been laid in her life."

The statement elicits a soft laugh from Hermione. "What? Don't act like you've experienced it before."

"And neither have you, although I'm here for practice." Harry laughs as he's lightly smacked against the cheek by Hermione, who remains lying across his lap.

"They can't chase us out just because you're being a gentleman. I'm staying right here."

"Oh how I do love it when little Miss Granger defies authority. Why weren't you so naughty way back then? Would've been fun to go after that troll."

Hermione looks up at Harry while laying across his lap. "No, it would've been dangerous for us both 'way back then.' Are you trying to fight different creatures each year in school? Let's see... Three-Headed Dog, Devil's Snare, Evil Professor, Acromantulas, Basilisk, Dementors, Werewolf, what's next I wonder?"

"Maybe nothing at all, might finally be a normal year for me." Harry continues to run his hands through her hair, and enjoys the relaxed expression on her face.

"Let's wait and see."

"Hopefully more time to spend with my little Gryffindor."

"Stop calling me 'little', Harry, I'm already your height. Little Slytherin," says an amused Hermione.

Hurried footsteps soon approach as Harry spots Snape walking beside Madam Pince.

"It's Potter, I presume?"

"Yes indeed, Professor Snape. You ought to educate him on proper library etiquette."

They round the corner and now stand at the table, which remains stacked with books. With Hermione still reading while lying across his lap, Harry looks up at Snape.

"Are you looking for detention, Potter? This is a library, in case you've lost your way in the castle."

"Well, how about I take Hermione back to our common room and see the reception she gets there? Or should I sit with her at my table, or join her at Gryffindor's table? No offense, Professor, but it's quite obvious that very few, if any, of my fellow Housemates approve of her. I'm pretty sure I've heard the word Mudbl—"

"Do  _not_  use that word!" Snape's sudden change of tone catches Harry, and Hermione, off-guard.

"Oh, alright, well..." Harry tries to find some way to speak them out of trouble. The next few seconds seem truly awkward for both students as Snape glares at them rather strangely. His black eyes going from Harry, to the books on the table, then to Hermione still lying across his lap, then to their completed Potions assignments.

"Hmph, I suppose Potter's brain has tried to function in this space"—Snape swipes up the two rolls of parchment—"Granger's influence, no doubt."

"And punishment, Professor Snape? These two are uncomfortably close in such a space of reading and learning," states Pince.

"The insufferable know-it-all has at least led to both assignments being done sooner." Snape swiftly walks away to exit the library while Madam Pince stands rather surprised. The expression shared by both Harry and Hermione as a scoffing Pince walks away.

"Nothing at all? Why is it that Snape occasionally acts so out of character when we're together?" asks Harry, while looking down at an equally confused Hermione.

"I have absolutely no idea."

Harry grins impishly. "And I here I thought you knew everything, Miss Granger."

"Don't forget where I'm laying, Harry, so let me read in peace or something important gets hurt." She adopts a most mischievous expression while looking him in the eye.

"Fine, read on then. Just don't mind the grumbling 'cos it's half an hour until dinner," says Harry, while simply gazing down at the studying Hermione as the minutes seemingly race by. Once dinner nears, he speaks. "So what you planning on doing afterwards?"

"Coming back here, and then we can discuss S.P.E.W."

"Discuss what now?"

"I'll keep it a surprise, so, let's go eat." She sits up and stretches out rather comfortably, although nearly hitting Harry in the face with her elbow. "Whoops, sorry."

"For what? Stretching or giving me a whiff of your armpit?"

Hermione gasps, then scowls at him. "I certainly have not. What is wrong with you?"

"No complaints, you smell great, and that's besides the perfume. Lemme smell you again."

"Haha, stop it, seriously. This is totally weird so... that tickles, gosh you're so strange... Harry!"

He stifles a laugh at her reddened cheeks as she stands up. Both students packing away their books, parchments and quills before walking to exit the library. The thought of having spent yet another afternoon in the library with Hermione brings a slight smile to Harry's face. The final few minutes of late afternoon now spent walking towards the Great Hall where they sit at separate tables to eat. Once finished, both excuse themselves to return to the library until 8pm.


	10. Practice, Practice, Practice

The next few days pass by relatively smoothly for Harry and his classmates: Thursday sees them having a non-shared class in History of magic followed by a free period before lunch. Then comes an afternoon filled with double Divination which begins with the topic of astrology.

Harry tries to focus in class but the silliness regarding Trelawney's explanation of their studies, and her failed attempt at predicting his birth month, has him sniggering. After hours in the fume-filled, stuffy classroom, Divination finally ends before the Slytherins descend the ladder and head off to enjoy the rest of the day.

While deciding what to do for the next one and a half hours until dinner, Harry reckons he should get in some Quidditch practice once more.

"Chaser or Seeker practice?" asks Tracey, who's decided to walk beside him while the rest of the girls head for the spectator stands.

"Chaser, because you know I only really play Seeker against Gryffindor."

"Ha, right, because of Ginevra Weasley yes. So I was wondering if I could join you?" Tracey looks at him optimistically while the sun shines against her oval glasses.

"Are you for real?"

"No, I'm imaginary. But seriously though, I was thinking of messing around with the Keeper position. What? Just because I'm a girl and wear glasses doesn't mean I can't play!" She narrows her eyes while scowling at him.

Harry laughs at the remark before commenting, "Okay, no need to throw a tantrum on me. Fine, let's practice a bit and see which bespectacled player is the best."

To his surprise, Harry finds that Tracey has a slight bit of Keeper talent. It also helps that she's aware of the Sticking Charm to secure her glasses, much like he does. After ten minutes of practice with Harry on his Firebolt, and Tracey 'borrowing' Bletchley's Nimbus 2001, she's managed to stop one of his shots.

Shouting from the stands towards the nearly empty pitch, Pansy and the rest cheer on the two of them. Though they deliberately favour Tracey over Harry. The latter now hovers before the biased group. His arms gestured out to the side and palms up. "Seriously, girls? No love for your boy?"

"No, Potter stinks, booooooooooooo. Go, Tracey!" Pansy jeers at him while displaying obscene hand signals.

Harry would feel insulted had it been anyone else but these few girls. For he knows that Pansy and the rest are simply teasing him in their own way. Shaking his head and laughing, Harry spins around on his broom with Quaffle in hand.

"Stop this one!" He streaks forward on the broom to aim for the left hoop, but swiftly redirects to the centre as Tracey commits to defending the left. "It was just a feint, ha, I score again."

"No fair, it's my first time playing on this pitch you know." She groans as Harry repeatedly feints, taunts, and scores past her for the next few minutes. Then she finally blocks three out of six shots, causing much cheers of approval from their girls in the stands.

"Not bad." Harry waits for Tracey to toss the Quaffle towards him. He then catches it while rolling in mid-air before speeding diagonally towards the left hoop.

"I'm not gonna fall for it again, hmph!" Tracey watches him aim left before she commits to the centre, but the Quaffle indeed flies through the left hoop. "Argh, you tricky little..."

"Come on, tomboy, don't get beaten by a guy," taunts Harry, as he flies circles around the hoops.

Tracey retaliates with a laugh followed by yelling, "Come on tomgirl!"

"I am  _not_ feminine," insists Harry, before speeding horizontally across the face of goal then swiftly tossing the Quaffle to the right hoop. "Goal, yeeeeah! In your face, Miss Davis."

"Keep boasting, yes, very impressive to be beating a newbie." Tracey tries her utmost best to predict Harry's swift movements before he shoots for a few more goals. Three goes in while a fourth is saved by her before she goes on to block a fifth. But the sixth shot zips by the groaning girl.

"It's in the back of the net! You can't beat this Clinical Finisher."

"What the  _hell_  are you talking about, Harry?" asks a confused Tracey, in response to all the Muggle terminology being spewed forth by Harry as he scores in succession. While flying past the stands, he suddenly comes to a halt upon spotting a certain spectator calling him over.

Standing before Pansy, Daphne, Millicent, and Sally-Anne in the stands is an older Prefect whom Harry is familiar with. The afternoon breeze blows through Yasmin Shafiq's long brunette hair as she stands beckoning him over. Harry now obediently hovers towards her.

"Well, looks like my little fourth year's forgotten all about me, hmm? Couldn't even care to include me in this unofficial bit of practice?" asks Yasmin, while tying her hair into a ponytail. It's known throughout the common room that she's hopeful for a spot on the team, yet always denied by Marcus Flint.

"Sorry, I thought you sixth years are supposed to be super busy with your high level classes now?" asks Harry.

"I could overlook your next minor misdemeanour, hint hint." Yasmin's comment draws urgent gestures of approval from Harry's girls standing behind her.

"Fine then, can't hurt to have another young lady in the air. Sure beats practicing with guys all day. You can grab Flint's 2001 if you'd like."

Yasmin shakes her head while grinning. "I think I'm up for a bit of a challenge. Stay on that Firebolt and I'll go grab that Nimbus 2000 you gave to Ginny Weasley. And yes I figured that you gave, and not 'sold', it to her last year." She races down the stairs before jogging across the pitch towards the broomshed.

Minutes later, Harry teams up with Yasmin as they launch repeated assaults on the goalposts behind Tracey. The difference in class between the Firebolt and Harry's Nimbus 2000 provides quite a challenge for Yasmin to keep up. But after another half hour of practice, it dawns on Harry that she's got a decent amount of skill.

"You're quite good. I guess it's Flint's loss for not taking you on the team."

"Thanks, little Harry. And yes you're always gonna be little to me."

After landing upon the ground, Harry grabs both brooms to be stored in the broomshed as Yasmin walks away. Though he swiftly decides to rather stash the Firebolt in the Slytherin locker room.

"Constant vigilance," he mutters to himself while doing so. Next comes a slight bit of cleaning charms over his robes, since he'd rather shower later instead. Footsteps at the locker room's entrance soon alerts him to Pansy's arrival. She now enters to return Miles Bletchley's Nimbus 2001.

"Where's Tracey?" asks Harry. "Isn't she in the mood to shower?"

"Nope, she's already headed back with Daphne and the others." Pansy places the Slytherin Keeper's broom at his locker before glancing at Harry. Her soft smile fades to curiosity upon looking at the badge pinned to his chest.

"S.P.E.W.: Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare," he responds, while smiling at the annoyed look on Pansy's face.

"Oh for God's sake. There's only one person in this school —or possibly the whole United Kingdom— who'd think of that. Let me guess...  _Granger?_ "

"You know it. Who am I to turn her down when she's so adorably excited over something?" Harry pauses to observe the unamused expression on Pansy's face.

"You didn't smoke anything I should be aware of over the holidays, have you?" Torn between frowning and laughing, Pansy gently bites her lip.

"No, but it's not that bad. Hermione's original aim was to improve the elves' working conditions then allow for wand use. Then eventually get an elf representative in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

The patient smile on Pansy's face appears to be as if she's speaking to a confused little child. "Are your 14 year old hormones clouding your judgement that badly? Elves with wands? An elfish representative? Harry, should I do you a favour and work off some of that steam in the shower, for the first time?"

"W-What?"

"Because this is the absolute most ridiculous bunch of rubbish I've  _ever_  heard in my little life."

"Well if it makes you feel better I managed to convince Hermione that we should drop the elves with wands and representative idea. But she's still adamant on their working conditions. That's a bit better, right?" he asks.

"Alright then"—Pansy inhales deeply before sighing loudly. A sight which Harry's always found cute—"That is a slight improvement. But I'm warning you, elves love their enslavement. You cannot force  _Granger's_  Muggle beliefs and ideals on them. Don't blame me if she tries something stupid that ends up angering those elves here."

"Don't act like you know her, Pansy."

"I do know her, better than you think. Wanna bet? She's haughty, uptight, doesn't have any siblings, and lives in Heathgate."

Harry's expression turns a mix of surprise and amazement. "How do you know she lives around there? I don't recall telling you?"

"Because when you're the only kid at home you tend to do silly things for fun. Like look up people's surnames in the telephone book."

"It's like I learn something new about you every single year," admits an amused Harry.

"Anyway, sooner or later your  _Hermione_  is gonna try something stupid like tricking the elves into freeing themselves or something. Expect retaliation when that happens."

Although Pansy has raised some interesting—and strong—arguments against S.P.E.W., Harry refuses to jeopardize his friendship with Hermione. Each derisive response given towards him when explaining S.P.E.W. to others earns Harry an 'I told you it's stupid' look from Pansy.

"I..." she says teasingly, after having finished dinner in the Great Hall.

"...told you so, yes, rub it in my face, would you?" Harry folds his arms and decides to remain seated well after most of the Hall has left. With merely Pansy and him at the Slytherin table, Harry spots Hermione walking across to take a seat facing him.

"Granger at the Slytherin table? Hopefully the elves will clean up that spot from Muggleborn germs," says a sniggering Pansy.

"Good evening to you too, Parkinson"—Hermione looks straight ahead at Harry—"So, we've had Moody this afternoon."

"It's about time, so how was it?"

A slight pause follows before Hermione looks down, then at Harry. "Absolutely horrible. I can't believe he'd actually show the Unforgivables in class. You should've seen Neville's face when the Cruciatus curse was being shown. And then there was the Killing Curse..."

Pansy scoffs very condescendingly as she speaks, "Well you see, Harry wasn't going to get all crybaby from some demonstrations like Longbottom."

From the look on Hermione's face, it seems as if she might let slip that Harry's actually used the Killing Curse already. He now looks her in the eye, hoping that she'd keep that to herself here. To his relief she does indeed prove to be the better person.

"...and by the way, Granger, I think your S.P.E.W. can rot in Hell," adds Pansy angrily.

"Very charming, thank you." Hermione flashes a sarcastic smile before looking at Harry once more. "I do appreciate your efforts with promoting elfish welfare. Now if only you could take Dobby away from the Malfoys..."

"If it makes you feel any better, I do slip him some coins now and then, so he's technically being paid," says Harry.

"Fair enough I suppose."

"And  _I suppose_  you should hurry off back to your common room to do some reading," sneers Pansy, before Harry speaks.

"Be nice please, I'm not in the mood for hostilities at this hour."

"Alright then. I'm doing this for him, not you,  _Granger_." Pansy essentially curls her lip in dislike of Hermione, who decides to place a chicken drumstick in Harry's empty plate.

"You seem to have been eyeing it for the past twenty minutes," says an amused Hermione.

"Oh, what?" Pansy smacks her hand aside before dishing mashed potatoes into a sighing Harry's plate, deliberately on top of the chicken. "There we go."

"Hmph." Hermione stands up, rounds the table, then pours a goblet of juice for herself and Harry.

"Please, I can do this all night, girl," says Pansy, as she adds salad to his plate of food. Harry, meanwhile, groans upon sitting with head in hands at their antics here. By the time they're done trying to outdo each other, he sits with an overly filled plate of food.

"I'm not even that hungry..."

"Eat it!" demands both girls angrily. With a frowning Pansy on his right, and a glaring Hermione on his left, Harry tries his best to get through the meal. Once he's somehow gotten it all down, he burps rather loudly at the table before being punched on either shoulder.

"Oh, gross!" scolds Hermione.

"Haven't I taught you proper table manners?" asks Pansy.

"Hahahaha, now I'm super full. Here comes a big one from below, bombs away..." He stands up slightly on the bench, before being yanked back down from either side.

"Harry..." Pansy almost growls at him.

"...if you  _dare."_ Hermione's expression seems almost murderous indeed. "Teach him some better manners, Parkinson."

"He's your friend as well, Granger. I swear if I get any odd smells at this table now, Harry James Potter..."

"Alright ladies, let's head back to our common rooms. It's late enough already so no harm in accompanying Hermione up the stairs, right?" Harry stands up before thanking both girls for the meal.

"If anyone sees me with  _her_..."

"I'd say the same thing, Parkinson."

"For once in your lives just act like proper witches." He smirks before hurriedly taking back the remark upon seeing their stern expressions. "Sorry!"

"Move." Pansy shoves him away from the table and towards the doors.

"Hmph,  _proper_ witches? What are you implying?" Hermione shoves him through the Entrance Hall, then towards the steps leading to the Grand Staircase.

"This doesn't mean we're friends, Granger," says Pansy minutes later, after having reached the seventh floor landing.

"Good evening to you all, sleep well." Hermione stands before the Fat Lady as Harry and Pansy make their way back down to the dungeons. Both wasting no time in heading for their separate dormitories.

Soon, Harry grasps the silver handle to open an emerald door leading to his room. As usual, Crabbe and Goyle are fast asleep at this hour. Draco, Zabini, and Nott now appear to be working through their Potions essays on their beds.

"Potter, have you finished yours yet?" asks Draco, while simultaneously scribbling and yawning.

"Knowing him, he probably went begging for help from the Mudblood," says Nott.

"It's done and already handed in. Do you guys want some tips or should I rather go sleep?"

"Tips, yes, bring them here. Quiet, Nott, my father's once again hounding me to up these grades. Here's what I've got so far." Draco shows his parchment to Harry, who in turn sits at the foot of his bed to help out.

"Come on, Theodore, might as well get some hints here," says Zabini, before Nott concedes that assistance would be 'acceptable'. Now Harry once again finds himself in a position of keeping things level with his roommates.

Over the next couple of weeks, the workload gradually increase as Professors pick up the pace. Most notably is Moody who places each of the students under the  _Imperius_  Curse. Much resistance soon comes from Harry, to his own surprise as he's unsure of why it's slightly easier for him, compared to others. Sally-Anne and Daphne also begin to resist, but to a far lesser extent.

Harry also wonders about what Sirius might be up to, since Tonks would be his only visitor. He does recall Sirius mentioning that he'd be hanging around Muggle places of interest, with Pansy's mother.

"What do you think my godfather and your mother might be doing now? She's not planning anything evil righ—Ouch!" Harry receives a pinch on the cheek from Pansy, as they walk through another corridor.

"No she won't, 'cos I know her well enough. But I'd rather not wonder what mom might be doing with a single—and wealthy—man right now."

"Uh yeah, me neither."

Official Quidditch practice has also picked up the pace as Flint works them hard. The prospect of a rematch with Hufflepuff, before foreign spectators, drives every member of the team to exhaustion in training. One evening in the common room, a lower year Slytherin girl, Hestia Carrow, asks Harry's favourite training question.

"How tiring can flying on a broom really be?"

Laying across a black couch and laughing, Harry turns to look at the girl seated at the nearby table. "Well you see it takes a lot of core stability, muscle power stuff, to keep your balance on the broom. Don't forget about all the crazy manoeuvres we do up there. An unfit slob won't last long. Also, all Quidditch positions require endurance, especially Keepers, Beaters, and Chasers. Handling the bat, Quaffle, or guarding the goalposts is far more strenuous than it looks. Just rolling on the broom uses a fair bit of muscle power. Seeker has it slightly easier but it's quite a workout following that speedy Snitch. So training's gotta prepare us all for that. See? It's not as easy as just 'flying on a broom.'

"Wow, okay, that was a lengthy answer indeed."

"You're welcome, little Miss Carrow." Harry's remark elicits a quick laugh from the otherwise stoic lower year.

Nearly every single night before bed, he slips on Pansy's omnioculars to replay what she's captured from Viktor Krum. From his flashy entrance on the broom, to various moments recorded from the match, to the chase and capture of the Snitch, Harry studies it all.

From September to October he spends most of his late evenings replaying the same footage, which he keeps in mind when practicing on the pitch. Armed with a fair bit of variety in his flying skills, Harry's additional manoeuvres draws some confusion from Flint. Though the latter reckons he's simply been practicing intensely.

One week from the end of October, students gather around an announcement finalizing the arrival of their foreign visitors. It's indeed due for the 30th and classes are to end half an hour earlier on the day. The Entrance Hall swiftly crowds up as more and more students discuss one topic: the Triwizard Tournament.

"Man, why couldn't any of us be just a few years older?" sighs Millicent, while standing beside a disappointed Harry in the Hall.

"For God's sake, whoever turns out to represent Hogwarts had better be a Slytherin. I just can't see us cheering for anything else," he replies, much to the agreement of his girls.

The comment draws much disapproval from the other Houses standing around Harry, as everyone hopes for quite the opposite. One particular Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan, expresses the general opinion of others.

"Hogwarts isn't all about you guys. I think it's time to give another House their chance in the spotlight. Slytherins won both House and Quidditch Cup for so many years now that it's quite ludicrous."

Standing behind Macmillan is Cho Chang of Ravenclaw, who's evidently still disappointed in Harry's Quidditch tactics from last year. "He's right you know. From getting the youngest Seeker in a while, to being the centre of the Heir debacle, to having its Seeker be the highlight of the dementor plight last year... There's just been too much Slytherin stuff lately. No offence."

More statements of agreement soon cause Harry to storm off with his girls following him towards the dungeon.

Daphne scoffs haughtily as the group descends the staircase. "Who'd have thought they'd gang up on us like that? What a bunch of utter cock."

"Harry can't help it if basically every year focuses on him. It's not his fault that he's rich, famous, and such a star on the field," admits Sally-Anne, eliciting a most passionate nod from Pansy.

"They ought to respect the superior House in this school. Oh my God but what if we end up getting a Gryffindor, or even worse, a  _Hufflepuff_  Triwizard Champion?" asks Tracey, with an expression of horror on her face.

"Oh crap, and Cedric Diggory is entering! Mister  _tall, handsome, and a Prefect_ ," says Harry bitterly.

"Not to worry, there's hope," replies Millicent. "I've heard that Cassius Warrington is eligible and plans on entering into the tournament."

Pansy sighs before speaking, "Some of the older students told me that Diggory's marks and practical performances are better. Whoever the Triwizard judge happens to be would most definitely choose him over our Warrington."

"And none of our seventeen year-olds are really superstars this year. He's probably the best we've got to offer." Daphne scowls irritably upon stating the facts. But with an ever-increasing load of work from all classes, the group of six swiftly return to their academics.

By Sunday, October 26th, Harry wakes up as early as possible. If he cannot enter the Tournament then he hopes to live up to Pansy and the girls' expectations. After getting freshened up, dressing, and grabbing what's needed from his trunk, he exits the common room. Fortunately, the dungeons remain full of secluded spots to withdraw his most treasured parchment.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." The Marauder's Map reveals itself to Harry before he now hurriedly views the Gryffindor common room. "Come on, sweetheart, where are you?"

Dozens of dots remain in their dormitories, bathrooms or in the common room itself, which toughens Harry's search. But after much squinting and scrutinizing he finally spots Ginny's name. She appears to be up surprisingly early as well, though probably sitting in the common room.

"Need to get someone from there..." Harry begins browsing across different sections of the school, hoping to find a reasonable Gryffindor walking about. However, few students happen to be out at this hour. Therefore, Harry simply keeps watch over Ginny's name before she suddenly exits the common room.

"Mischief Managed." He tucks the Map securely in his side pocket while hurrying towards the Entrance Hall, then towards the Grand Staircase. Upon approaching the marble steps he spots Ginny standing at its top, about to descend.

"Good morning!" she greets excitedly. "So why are you up this early?"

"Looking for you."

"Oh I see." She scoffs playfully while slowly descending the steps. "Well let me have some breakfast before you attack me, evil snake."

"Hey that's not funny—"

"I'm just playing with you, so"—Ginny now approaches Harry before smiling—"is there something you need from me?"

"Yes, little wittle lion." Harry proceeds to ask if she's available for a one-on-one Seeker session on the pitch.

"It's quite cold outside, really cold," she replies.

"Oh, okay then..."

"Wait." Ginny instantly spots the crestfallen look on Harry's face. "I thought you said I'm your rival, so why go and practice with me?"

Hesitant to reveal his intentions of taking on Viktor Krum, Harry smiles kindly. "Because you're a bloody fine Seeker, and I'd love to practice together again."

The compliment elicits a slight widening of Ginny's eyes before her cheeks redden. "Oh, alright then."

"Don't forget to bring the Nimbus 2000, because you'll be flying on my Firebolt for our session."

"Really?! Are you mental? Why put yourself at a disadvantage like this?"

"Calm your pretty self down, Ginny. I have my reasons." Harry grins upon seeing his second compliment redden the girl's cheeks, before entering the practically empty Great Hall.

"Psst, there's hardly anyone around"—Ginny gestures for him to see that merely Dumbledore, McGonagall, Moody, and Flitwick appear to be at the staff table—"Would you like to sit next to me?"

"Might as well be a Gryffindor for breakfast, yes. But let's make this quick before more witnesses arrive." He walks beside a beaming Ginny as they take their seats at one end of the Gryffindor table. Being closer to the staff table than from his usual spot, Harry hears them idly chatting and eating.

"You're my guest at this table so lemme dish us both."

"How adorable," says an amused Harry, while watching Ginny dish them food like her mother might do. "Thank you, Miss Weasley."

"Pleasure, Miss Potter."

"What? Hey!"

While spending the next few minutes eating beside Ginny, Harry occasionally catches a glimpse of the teachers looking their way. Moody seems to be jokingly passing a comment that has McGonagall both laughing, and admonishing him. Flitwick seems to have overheard whatever was said and briefly gasps while eating.

"All done!" Ginny stands up while giggling at Harry's partially filled plate. "Come on, slowpoke, I'm waiting."

"Feisty little"—Harry hurriedly finishes two chicken drumsticks—"Let's head to the pitch! But uh, we should let this digest before flying."

"I know that, duh, of course."

They soon exit the Great Hall before heading all the way to the Quidditch Pitch. The rest of the morning spent warming up and flying together much like they've done occasionally last year. But for Harry, the sheer difficulty of flying against his vastly superior Firebolt elicits successive defeats to the Snitch by an absolutely ecstatic Ginny.

"Again, that's the third time I've caught it before you. Hahaha you're nothing now. Focus those pretty greens on the Snitch and give me a proper challenge, Harry!"

She laughs loudly in delight while flying circles on the Firebolt. Harry, meanwhile, continues to let Ginny enjoy herself as he works upon bridging the speed and agility gap using skill. For he knows that Viktor Krum would come with years and leagues more experience than himself. His thoughts now interrupted as Ginny flies right up to him, then she smiles before tilting her head teasingly.

"Oh what's wrong? Can't keep up with your own broom? Is that Nimbus 2000 not good enough for its old owner?"

"Heh, cheeky little hamster, let's go!" Harry races off in pursuit once Ginny releases the Snitch for the fourth time. It helps that she's talented enough to give him a terrific challenge in training, made even harder by the Firebolt now.

"I can do this all morning if you'd like. Nothing better than beating oh so pretty Boy-Who-Lived to the Snitch over and over again!" she taunts while narrowly catching the Snitch yet again. It's clear that both Seekers truly enjoy their session indeed as morning carries on towards noon. But the sudden appearance of canary yellow robes in a distant section of the pitch has Harry ending their session.

"And here I was going for yet another catch this morning. Oh, Hufflepuff's coming I see," says Ginny, while landing beside Harry. "We should really do that again, seriously, it was an absolute blast."

"Getting mushy on me? Tough little Miss Weasley?"

The bright smile on Ginny's face speaks volumes to Harry as they exit the pitch to store their brooms. Once both have showered at their respective locker rooms, they meet up outside the stadium.

"Oh, I forgot. Here's a little something for being such a good sport this morning."

Ginny turns to look at him rather quizzically. "Hmm, what is it—" Her question answered by a tight hug from Harry.

"Now don't go thinking I'm a cold-hearted Tom Riddle again."

"Ha, don't make me tease you once more, Harry."

They now stroll across the chilly grounds before entering the castle in search of their usual group of friends. Harry rejoins Pansy and the rest while Ginny heads towards her common room to finish some work. Both Seekers' expressions convey the terrific time they've had together this morning.


	11. Foreign Visitors Arrive

The final week of October moves on at a rather steady pace as excitement builds over the Tournament and its foreign visitors. Even the portraits and suits of armour appear to have been given a thorough cleaning. Though the sprucing up of the castle seems to have placed a fair amount of stress on its staff as well. While walking down the fourth floor corridor on Monday afternoon, Harry and Daphne are approached by a rather irritable looking Ron Weasley.

"Since when are you two friends? Why's he coming to speak to you?" asks Daphne, while turning to look curiously at Harry.

"We're not  _friends_ , what do you want, Ronald?"

"Since you're so friendly towards Hermione, can't you just give her a few galleons to keep quiet? She's forever shaking that collecting tin under everyone's noses, and non-stop asking us to pay 2 sickles to join her S.P.E.W."

"Granger's still going on her oh so noble crusade? What a waste of time, but, hehehe..." Daphne then whispers mischievously into a smiling Harry's ear, much to Ron's annoyance.

"I already did that, Daffy girl." Harry looks from her to Ron before speaking. "How's Hermione enjoying my birthday present for her? That blackboard doing its job?"

A look of surprise crosses Ron's face before he sighs. "You bought her that thing? It's pissed off everyone in the common room. Nobody cares about S.P.E.W., really!"

"What exactly have you given Granger in September, Harry?" asks Daphne.

"A little blackboard with chalk that glows when written on it. I'll bet she wrote 'SUPPORT S.P.E.W.' so big and brightly that you can't miss it in their common room." Both Harry and Daphne laugh loudly before Ron turns to leave.

"It's really annoying for us all, even Fred and George."

"By the way, Ronald. I can't just pay Hermione to keep quiet. She doesn't want it that way with one person doing all the funding. S.P.E.W. is meant to raise awareness, so clearly she wants a little bit from all, instead of all from a little bit. Have a good day hearing her speeches and moral debates," says Harry, before heading off with an amused Daphne at his side.

Tuesday passes by without anything of note besides Harry and his classmates being addressed by Snape. They listen as their Head of House speaks while slowly pacing around the room.

"Hosting the Triwizard Tournament requires considerable amount of effort on this school's part. Foolishness, displays of academic delinquency, and any actions that may bring shame upon this House will not be tolerated."

Snape pauses to look deliberately at Harry, who's seated against the wall, between Pansy and Daphne.

"Some of you are more likely to cause an incident with the ladies of Beauxbatons. Let this be a warning that any complaints will be dealt with... accordingly."

As Snape continues to address the class of eleven, Harry hears Daphne whispering in his ear. "Even he knows you well enough already. Try to keep yourself in check when the ladies arrive."

"I've already met some of them. Zere was one zat was really prettee indeed. Ze boys here will be loseeng zeir minds when she enters zis castle." Harry's sudden change in accent has Daphne in fits of giggles.

"...so do not bring shame to Slythe— Is there something I should know about, Miss Greengrass?" Snape turns to face the red-faced Daphne.

"No, sir! I was just zinking about sometheeng zat Harry—" She gasps before clearing her throat—"oh my gosh, sorry, sorry! It was nothing at all!"

"Potter! Your idiocy is beginning to spread to Greengrass. Do try to keep it to yourself."

"Yes, sir." Harry watches as Snape turns to address the rest of the group once more, before he looks at Daphne. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"Maybe..." She looks at him with an overly cute grin before folding her arms and listening to Snape's talk on 'behaving appropriately.'

Wednesday sees the Slytherins being put through their paces in double Transfiguration. McGonagall demands a 'sufficient display of academic awareness' from all her students, much like Snape expects. The rest of the lesson soon spent practicing the Switching Spell, with mixed results across the class.

In Herbology after lunch, Professor Sprout seems rather excited for their visitors, and thus the Ravenclaw-Slytherin session finds itself in good spirits compared to Potions or Transfiguration.

Thursday brings as dull a History of Magic session as ever, with goblins being the topic yet again. But after lunch, Harry spends a fair bit of double Divination reading out his bits of homework written by his girls. They've taken the liberty of wickedly predicting some most unfortunate circumstances for him, which ends up pleasing Trelawney quite a bit. The prospect of Harry accepting his 'tumultuous future' earns him positive feedback on his work due to the girls' creativity.

"Seriously though,  _killed in front of the entire school_... That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" he asks Pansy, to which she simply shrugs.

"Dunno, had to think up something in line with your Grim nonsense from last year."

She walks beside Harry to dinner before he heads off alone for another evening session with Moody. Drawing his wand, he enters Classroom 3C not to a test of reactions but rather a blaring amount of noise. A real ruckus now coming from all manner of objects scattered around the room while Moody stands in its centre.

"Good evening, Professor Moody. Uhm, what in hell is going on here? I can't hear a thing!"

Moody laughs before drawing his wand. "More  _Protego_ practice, Potter. But this time you'll have to focus through the noise. Real life situations aren't always nice and comfortable in a fight. What? You think spells come easy? It takes some real focus, intent, understanding, and practice to produce a decent spell. Now, put up that shield...  _Everte Statum!_ "

Harry throws up a  _Protego_  but just as Moody's spell approaches, one of the desks behind Harry slams itself over. The noise catching his attention before he's sent flying as his shield shatters upon impact.

"UNACCEPTABLE!" yells Moody, while Harry picks himself up from what feels like being hit by numerous pans on the head. "Again, and you've got to be aware while also not distracted by your environment."

Next comes a few non-verbal spells for Harry to block. Once his shield is up, the first spell fails to break through but the second blasts him backwards. His ears now ringing from the sheer rattling, thumping, and erratic behaviour of the bewitched desks and classroom items around him.

"That's better, remember: casting decent spells is a complicated matter. I don't expect you to suddenly reach Auror level or anything from our sessions, just appreciate the bits of improvement, lad."

Harry certainly does appreciate these weekly extra lessons, even if the past three have been nothing but  _Protego_  practice. For Moody insists that he gets his defence 'up to scratch' first. Once again, a variety of non-verbal spells come at Harry in succession which he hopes to block.

With clanging, banging, ringing, and bouncing equipment all around him, Harry tries his best to focus on producing the barrier.  _"Protego!"_

A jet of red smashes against his shield which holds but throws him back a few steps. Then comes flashes of orange and white, hammering against his  _Protego_  before deflecting across the room. Moody's advised him on imagining  _why_  exactly he's using a shield charm.

The minutes pass by with Harry soon having to dodge distracting desks while partially managing to block Moody's attacks. The latter mixing verbal and nonverbal spells to throw him off guard. Harry gives it his best, battling through exhaustion from the sheer amount of mental effort taken to keep up with tonight's session. By its end, Moody disenchants the desks and equipment, ceasing the classroom racket

"My ears are still ringing, head feels dizzy as heck. Too much mental fatigue..."

"Not bad today, Potter. Now you see a bit of why people such as Dumbledore and the Dark Lord command such respect. It takes far more than most would think to be a decent wizard. But there's still quite a few people who think just running around and 'training' can make the wizard. I say different!"

Once back in the common room, Harry ignores the snide remakes from Nott regarding his 'remedial' lessons. He then sneaks into Pansy's dorm to help with work, but ends up falling asleep on Sally-Anne's bed. Hours later, he awakes after midnight to find himself covered with a spare blanket, and with lip balm on his cheek. With everyone fast asleep, Harry creeps through the tunnels towards the common room before entering the boys' dormitories.

Friday morning sees everyone up for their long-awaited guests. With classes due to end half an hour early, at 3pm, this puts each and every student in a great mood. For Harry and his fellow fourth year Slytherins, their Fridays consist of nothing but double Potions after lunch.

"Watch me do something  _crazy mentally insane_  today!" he declares while eating breakfast.

"Oh no, I don't like that look in your eyes, Harry," says Millicent, whose opinion is shared by the girls around him.

"Don't tell me that sleeping on my bed has affected your thinking, hmm?" asks Sally-Anne. "Wasn't he just so adorable all sleepy-sleepy?"

"Most definitely yes. If you fall asleep in our dorm, then don't complain if I get you on the cheek," says Pansy triumphantly.

"So I snuck a peek at Moody's schedule and it seems he's got third year Gryffindor first at 9 now..."

Daphne laughs rather unladylike with food stuffed in her mouth. "Going to join up with Gryffindor's esteemed young Seeker in her class?"

"Just this once but I'll first ask Moody if he wouldn't mind," says Harry, who soon spots the Professor walking down the aisle between the tables. Once he's out the door, Harry hurriedly approaches him. "Professor Moody!"

"Aren't you free until lunch, Potter? No reason to be in such a hurry. Could run into a trap at any moment like that..."

Harry proceeds to ask if he can join in on third year Gryffindor's class this morning. After giving it some thought, Moody soon replies, "Now I'm starting to see why you're in Slytherin, lad. Fine, but don't go ruining the novelty of it. Just this once then."

While the rest of his classmates kick back and relax, or finish their work, Harry races to Classroom 3C. To his surprise, the Gryffindor students seem to have arrived quite early already.

"Oh my goodness, it's Harry Potter!" states an awestruck Colin Creevey, whose classmates seem totally confused.

"What is he doing here?"

"No idea."

"Ron Weasley says he's a showoff."

Harry casually takes a front seat in the left row of desks, beside Ginny. The look of utter shock on her face has him beaming with pride.

"W-What are you doing here, Harry? Oh, are you joining us again?" she asks, with her eyes widened a fair bit.

"Uh-huh, yes, just like that one time last year. I've got Friday mornings free so I thought I'd just come chill here for once."

"Go away, Colin!" scolds Ginny, while Creevey tries his best to get near the famous Slytherin. "No, seriously, bugger off! He's  _my_  friend here." Colin tries to whip out his camera but Ginny groans before smacking it away.

The door soon flies open as Moody walks in, looks around the classroom, then bangs his fist on the front desk to silence the room. "CREEVEY, you'd better put that camera away RIGHT NOW before I smash it to rubbish!"

Colin hurriedly complies before Moody speaks again, "Right, who can remind us what we're doing today?"

"We're supposed to be finishing off on boggarts, sir," says a girl at the back.

"Yes, and it seems there are still two students unable to finish theirs. If you can't conquer your fears then how do you expect to stand up to the Dark Arts? Always be VIGILANT and fearless!"

Moody calls up Colin to stand before the same cupboard which Lupin had used last year.

"Get this right or I'll kick you out of class, laddie," he growls, and Harry reckons an angry Moody would scare students more than even a boggart.

He watches from his desk as Moody slams open the cupboard to reveal something that has Harry fairly surprised. The rest of the class seems to have already seen Colin struggle against this boggart, and are hardly bothered by seeing such a rare creature yet again.

"For God's sake, Creevey, it's just a bloody BOGGART! It can't do anything to you but mess with your head. Speaking of which, are you blind? A real one's probably far bigger than this, it's just its HEAD here!"

Harry raises his hand to speak, which Moody allows. "The Professor's quite right you know. If it was real we'd all be dead from looking into its eyes. Come on, kid, I dealt with this thing in my second year."

"HAHA! Did you all hear that? Our Slytherin lad claims to have beaten the biggest snake of them all," says Moody, to which the classroom begins recalling what's been told in their first year. It seems everyone at school during Harry's second year had heard about the Chamber of Secrets events. Except that Tom Marvolo Riddle remains a secret between Harry and Ginny, as requested by Dumbledore.

Although the students think they've seized an opportunity to teach their Professor—with regards to past events of the school—he simply laughs.

"Dumbledore's already briefed me on that, so don't think you kids are getting the one-up on me."

Murmurs of disappointment echo across the class as Moody resumes berating Creevey for being too scared to cast his  _Riddikulus._  Meanwhile, Ginny turns to whisper to Harry sitting beside her.

"Maybe you should help him out. Not like he's lying on the ground and dying. Hmm, I wonder who that was now again?"

"Oh, just an idiot who wrote her heart out in a cursed diary—OW!"

Although his back is turned to the class, Moody still shouts. "WEASLEY! Find some other time to elbow Potter's leg."

Looks of bewilderment cross the face of every student seated nearby, as it becomes apparent that Moody's eye offers him a huge advantage. Some reckon he can see out the back of his head.

While rubbing his leg, and with a scowling Ginny inches from his face, Harry grins smugly. "Next time, how about confiding in the  _proper_ Slytherin instead of his evil foe? Am I not prettier than Tom?"

With her eyes narrowed, Ginny can't help but suddenly smile. "Perhaps, now don't let that go to your over-inflated big ego head."

"Oh excuse me?" Harry scoffs before gently headbutting a giggling Ginny on her shoulder. Moments later sees Colin finally cast the boggart-banishing spell to defeat his fear with laughter.

"It's about bloody time! Now, WEASLEY, get up and deal with your fear," orders Moody, which has Harry suddenly worried.

"Oh crap, don't tell me everyone's seen Tom? Dumbledore asked us to keep it a secret," he whispers urgently in her ear.

"Don't worry about it, honestly, my boggart's changed a bit since we tried that one over the holidays." Ginny flashes Harry a genuine smile before standing up and walking past an excited Colin. Though she angrily shoos him away from her seat before standing at the cupboard.

From his view at the front left, Harry watches as a familiar black book lands at her feet. The scene eliciting a laugh from Moody.

"Black book again? Still scared of being written off for detention or something, lass?"

Ginny shrugs before replying, though her voice seems slightly shaky while glancing at the eerie book. "Well yeah, detention's pretty scary when it's something bad.  _Riddikulus!"_

She then spins around triumphantly before strutting to her seat, with a proud smile on her face as she sits beside Harry.

"Oh wow, you made that look really easy. So why'd Moody have you as one who couldn't finish the task?" he asks in a whisper.

"I played it up a bit, just wanted to finish last. Although"—Ginny's expression softens a fair bit as she looks at Harry—"thank you for that extra session at your place. God this is quite embarrassing to say..."

"Just say it."

"...it really makes a difference that you were nearby for my first boggart, Harry."

He turns to see Moody splitting the class into pairs for some duelling. After being assigned as Ginny's partner, he softly replies to her. "Is the wittle Seeker getting emotional?"

"Hmph, we'll see who's laughing when I out-duel you now."

"Bring it on, Miss Red Hair." Harry spends the remainder of the class duelling against Ginny. Although she puts up a decent fight, his shield charms prove too much before she's eventually disarmed.

Once the bell sounds for a short break between the two morning classes, Harry bids Ginny farewell before heading off. The voice of Moody now heard barking orders at the students to stay  _cautious_  around today's foreign visitors. With his second morning slot also free, Harry heads to the Great Hall where he spots the change in décor. Enormous silk banners, each representing the colours of a school House, hang from its walls. Those with green beneath a silver serpent elicits a smile of pride from him.

After a surprisingly excitable lunch comes double Potions, where even the Gryffindors seem to be in great spirits. Whether from the shortened second class, or their guests soon arriving, they can't help but smile upon taking their seats. Snape has yet to arrive, and therefore Harry strides over to the blackboard. He then turns on his heels and gazes sternly over the class.

"Turn to page three-hundred and ninety...  _four_ ," he speaks, while trying to imitate Snape. The gesture eliciting laughter from the Slytherins, as well as a few Gryffindor girls. Although the substitute lesson for Lupin last year had only been for Gryffindor, Harry recalls Hermione's retelling of Snape's Defence class afterwards.

But he soon bolts across the room to take a seat facing Pansy, whose expression and laughter makes him grin as well. Then Snape enters, gazes quizzically at the class, and proceeds to warn everyone to 'not disgrace this school.'

Both classes are spent brewing an antidote to common poisons, although even today's excitement does nothing to curb Snape from docking Gryffindor points. As the usual bias elicits sniggers from the Slytherins, Pansy leans forward to whisper at Harry.

"You know what's even funnier? We'll have to wear our hats this evening."

Harry sits with head on his hands upon the workstation. "Oh my God, I hate those silly-looking things. They make me look, well, silly."

Pansy giggles softly, before adopting a mischievous smile. "You don't have a choice, and I think it makes you look cute, childishly so."

"Yeah, laugh all you want, hmph."

The bell soon rings to signal the end of classes as students hurry back to their common rooms. For the Slytherins it's a short distance from Potions before speaking the password to a set of brickwork along a dungeon corridor. After heading to the dormitory, Harry deposits his bag and books before slipping on his uniform cloak. Then he returns to the common room area while still holding the black pointed hat in hand.

"Put that hat on, Potter boy," says Pansy firmly, before Daphne speaks.

"I'll hold him while you sort it out." She pulls Harry into a headlock before a laughing Pansy slips on his hat.

"Argh, take it off!"

"We have instructions to follow, silly. Best to follow them tonight," replies Daphne. As dozens of Slytherins exit their common room, Draco's voice can be heard from the front.

"These hats were okay when we were starting school, now they're ridiculous."

They soon stand in lines at the Entrance Hall, with various Heads of Houses keeping their students orderly. Snape soon orders the Slytherins to neaten and make themselves presentable.

"Malfoy, adjust that hat. Davis, button up that cloak." He continues to walk beside the fourth year section of the Slytherin line. "Drop that smirk, Nott." Minutes later, Snape orders them out to entrance courtyard. "Eyes up, Potter."

The evening proves to be cold and clear as Harry stands in the fourth row from the front. Excitable whispers from all manner of Houses are swiftly silenced by their respective Heads.

"Be silent, Mr. Creevey," orders Professor McGonagall.

"Ms. Patil, kindly remain quiet until later on," says Professor Flitwick.

More hushed whispers echo throughout the mass of students which are soon silenced.

"Now is not the time to be discussing who's entering the Tournament, Ms. Abbot," states Professor Sprout. "You too, Bones."

Snape's glare has none of the Slytherins willing to even whisper before Dumbledore finally announces the arrival of Beauxbatons. Descending from the air in a gigantic, horse-drawn carriage, they certainly arrive in dramatic fashion before their Headmistress steps out. During the ensuing applause from the Hogwarts students, Pansy whispers in Harry's ear.

"That's Madame Maxime, their Headmistress. Alyssa reckons she's got some Giant heritage, and so do I. What a big woman, eh?"

Harry nods while continuing to applaud the students exiting the carriage, before the delegation stands glancing apprehensively at the castle.

Daphne suddenly laughs as she speaks, "Hey, girls, how about we make ourselves some French guy friends? Feeling jealous, Harry?"

Indeed he does, before retorting, "I wonder how the girls of Durmstrang look? Bet they're a sexy bunch of Eastern Europeans. And they might have better looking blondes than our Daphne."

"Oh you did  _not_  just say that!" she responds with a frown. Meanwhile, Dumbledore announces that Hagrid will tend to Maxime's enormous horses. Then the crowd of Hogwarts students part to allow their foreign counterparts to enter the castle. Eventually, a rather skeletal-looking ship suddenly rises from the Black Lake, startling every student overlooking the castle grounds.

"Here's a challenge, Harry: keep your eyes on the guys," says Millicent, as the Durmstrang delegation soon arrives under the lights of the entrance courtyard. Sure enough, Harry tries to focus on the male students, who seem to be wearing thick coats of shaggy fur, as are their female counterparts. And much like those from Beauxbatons, the group totals around a dozen boys and girls.

The Durmstrang Headmaster soon exchanges greetings with Professor Dumbledore, who addresses him as 'Karkaroff'. The latter now beckons his students into the castle, especially one  _Viktor Krum._  The sight of the world famous Seeker brings stunned silence, followed by awestruck whispers throughout the Hogwarts students.

"Uh-oh," says a teasingly sing-song whisper of Daphne nearby. "Looks like there's another celebrity student in the school. Oh what will our poor little Harry ever do?"

"Shut up," he mutters irritably, much to Daphne's amusement. The torment growing only worse for Harry as the Hogwarts students enter the castle behind Durmstrang. Girls and boys alike hop up and down to catch a glimpse of Viktor Krum in the entrance hall, while many wish they'd have brought their quills for an autograph.

"I can make a bloody entrance too, you know. No need to be a foreign Seeker, nor come with a fancy ship, nor walk like there's a stick up my arse," mutters Harry. He stands beside Pansy while eyeing Krum entering the Great Hall.

"You're so jealous that it's actually funny and adorable." Pansy adopts her mock-baby tone once more. "Aww, wook at wittle baby Potter. He's all getting jealous at the big, bad, Viktor Kwum." She then pinches his cheeks like one would do to an infant, causing Harry to softly laugh.

"Very funny."

"Now how long are we gonna be out here while everyone's going inside?" asks Pansy, while standing with her hands on hips. She then looks past the entrance to the Great Hall and gasps. "Durmstrang's sitting at our table! Looks like Draco's made a space for Krum beside him. Someone's trying to make connections, bless him, shame."

Harry practically begs Pansy to stay with him in a corner of the entrance hall as students pour into the Great Hall. She remains sniggering at him all the time, until he decides to enter last, right as Dumbledore prepares to start his talk.

"Perhaps I ought to add a new prediction to your Divination homework:  _death by damaged_   _ego_ ," whispers Pansy most amusingly as they enter the Hall.

"Harry, and Miss Parkinson, kindly settle down before we start," says Dumbledore calmly, causing all eyes to look upon them.

"This is quite embarrassing," mutters Pansy, as they walk to take their usual spots near the far end of the Slytherin table. But for Harry, the attention is most welcome, although he happens to eavesdrop on the nearby Ravenclaw table.

Quidditch Captain, Roger Davies, can be heard speaking to a few Beauxbaton students. "Yes, that's the famous  _Harry Potter_  indeed. Don't let him fool you though. He's probably the most arrogant and sly kid in this whole school. Look how he deliberately enters last to get attention..."

Ignoring the remarks, Harry soon takes a seat beside Pansy as Dumbledore speaks.

"I would like to formally welcome the lovely ladies and gentlemen of the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, as well as Durmstrang Institute." He then wishes them a comfortable stay at Hogwarts before continuing:

"The Tournament will officially be opened after the feast, I now invite you all to enjoy, and make yourselves at home. Also note that we'll be having our first Quidditch match of the season tomorrow morning. Two of our Houses, namely Slytherin"—Dumbledore gestures towards the Slytherin table—"and Hufflepuff"—he does the same towards them—"will be up against each other. Best of luck to all!"

A great amount of food soon appears before everyone in the Great Hall, including a variety of foreign dishes too. Although barely over twenty students have been added, it certainly feels as if the room is far fuller, and lively, than ever before.

Harry's decided upon facing the Ravenclaw table, instead of having his back turned to them. Almost instantly, he spots a familiar pair of faces among those in silky powder-blue uniforms. The girl who had once introduced herself as Fleur seems to be clutching a muffler around her head. Her expression of real discomfort with regards to the temperature.

Beside her sits Pansy's paternal cousin, Alyssa, who appears quite comfy compared to her peers. The cold evening weather doing little to dampen her excitement at being in Hogwarts. But for Harry, it becomes a fair bit of a struggle to keep his eyes on Alyssa instead of the part-veela Fleur. A furious tapping on his shoulder soon shakes him alert once more.

"Are you going to eat or stare at my cousin and her pals all night?"

He swiftly looks right to see a narrow-eyed Pansy, who he has noted slightly resembles her cousin. Though the latter has blue, instead of Pansy's green, eyes.

"You're the French connoisseur, Madame Parkinson, so help me pick from this cuisine."

She tilts her head at him and smiles. "Just because I have a cousin over there in France doesn't mean I know all this stuff."

The rest of the girls nearby agree, as Daphne speaks, "Yeah, Pansy's useless when it comes to naming foreign foods. Plus, who said this is all French anyway?"

"Well if it's on the table, it's gotta be safe. Let's have at it!" declares Millicent, before Harry ends up battling with his friends for helpings.

"Hey, that was mine!" he scolds, as Sally-Anne swipes away a bowl of Eastern European cuisine.

"Was your name on it? Huh? No." She gleefully empties the bowl between herself and a sniggering Tracey. "Too slow, Harry boy."

He then eyes a cake of sorts and swiftly pulls the plate towards him. But it soon slides towards Daphne beside him as she pulls it away. Their ensuing fight and struggles over the quarter cake left draws the attention of students as far as the Ravenclaw table ahead.

Millicent sighs before speaking, "Would you two cut it out already? There's enough Kladdkaka for both of you!"

"The what now?" asks Harry, while Daphne giggles.

"Sounds like a monster. Rawwwr! Beware the evil  _Kladdkaka_!" She claws her polished nails on Harry's shoulder. "Rawwr!"

"How very mature of you. It's some Swedish cake, really nice. Mum and dad took us on a trip up north a few years back," replies Millicent.

"Quit acting so childish, Daphne. Okay, fine, let's half the leftover cake." Harry slices the quarter into two, before Daphne grabs a piece.

"Oh this is absolutely brilliant!" she declares, while Harry finishes what's left in his plate. He then moves on to a few foreign soups that certainly please his palate.

"I could do with some of... whatever this is, tomorrow morning. Very healthy as well," says Harry, before Tracey smiles.

"Darn it, I used to know what that's called. Sol... Solya... Solyan—something soup. Can't remember," she says. Meanwhile, Harry unashamedly stuffs himself.

"What a little child you are," says an amused Pansy, before picking up a nearby serviette. "Hold still." She wipes off the bits of soup, sauce, and cream around his mouth.

Harry would retort, but suddenly catches a glimpse of some students looking his way from across the Great Hall aisle. Fleur and Alyssa seem to be laughing at Pansy's wiping of his mouth. But Harry takes it in stride and smiles before stealing a spoonful of Daphne's soup.

"Tosser," she mutters, then retaliates by grabbing desserts off his plate. Now Harry and Daphne once again end up fighting over food, drawing some attention from those nearby.

"Vot are they doing there? They look childish," says a girl from Durmstrang, seated a slight ways down the Slytherin table. As the minutes pass by, Harry spots Mr. Crouch and Ludo Bagman entering to take the two remaining seats at the staff table.

"I suppose they've got every right to be here," says Tracey. "After all, they're the organisers."

"Hey, Harry, shall we head over to the Ravenclaw table to greet my cousin?" asks Pansy. "You'll also get to reunite with your World Cup part-veela pal over there."

"Heck yes!" He swiftly stands up as Pansy walks across the wide aisle between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Quite a few heads throughout the Great Hall now turn, as Slytherins hardly visit other tables.


	12. Reunions and a Rematch

"Oh, it looks like ze idiot 'as come crawling back to me after all zis time. Hmph, no manners whatsoever. I introduce myself and expected some kind of communication, but did I get any? Why did you not send anything?"

Harry stands with slightly blushing cheeks while a scowling Fleur looks at him. Never mind that their interaction draws quite a few glances from students of all House tables.

"To be fair, Fleur, you basically called me an idiot before walking away—"

"But zat is what you are, 'Arry Potter," she responds with a smile. One that has him battling to resist shoving aside Pansy and taking a seat beside Fleur.

"—so how exactly was I supposed to know we're even acquaintances? Plus, my poor owl would've gotten exhausted travelling back and forth between here and France."

The statement brings a startled look on Fleur's face. "Zere are many uzzer ways of communicating, or did you really not know zat?"

"Really?" Harry genuinely appears surprised, since he's always relied solely on owls such as Hedwig. "I'm sorry but it's been mostly owl mail for me."

Whether it's sympathy, pity, or derision, Harry can't quite tell by the look on Fleur's face. In the meantime, he greets Alyssa, who's found the interaction amusing.

"Well"—she looks at Fleur, then Pansy—"I reckon that Harry Potter owes her an apology for not being a gentleman. Any ideas, cuz?"

Pansy grins mischievously. An expression Harry's seen on Alyssa and Mrs. Parkinson before, as if it runs in the family. "Let him be your servant for tonight, Fleur. That ought to instil some manners in my Harry."

"What?" he gawks at her. "You're supposed to be on my side."

"Manners first, now go follow your mistress." Pansy and Alyssa both snigger mockingly before Fleur suddenly stands up.

"Zat is a very good idea"—she snaps her fingers at Harry—"come, little doggie, I am in ze mood to see what is on all zese tables around. It is also evidently cold, and I would like to walk."

Before he leaves to walk behind Fleur, Harry sees Alyssa turning to glance at a smiling Pansy before speaking. "Your school is very nice. I suppose we can hang out a bit while your boyfriend busies himself with Fleur."

"Agreed, it's really nice to have you here."

Harry feels a slight pang of longing upon seeing the two cousins interact. Alyssa seems to be sharing her plate with Pansy, who in turn tries out various desserts with her. She also outright ignores the curious Ravenclaws nearby. Then the image of being like this with Dudley comes to Harry's mind, and he hurriedly follows Fleur instead.

"Do you want to be forgeeven or not? Zere are other boys to call upon if you would rather be sitting back zair..." Fleur looks over her shoulder while standing in the aisle between Ravenclaw and Slytherin.

"Coming!" replies Harry, in a subservient manner that surprises even himself.

"And just like zat, ze most famous boy in 'Ogwarts knows 'is place," says a smirking Fleur. "Let us go to ze... what are zey called now again?"

"Gryffindor, the Gryffindor table. With Gryffindor students." Harry can hardly believe himself here. It feels markedly different to be with Fleur now, compared to the World Cup.

"It will be fun to 'ave ze school see zair 'Arry not so 'igh and mighty anymore." She now struts down the aisle with him in tow. By Fleur's body language and expression, it's clear to all that she's got Harry Potter at her beck and call.

Upon reaching the Gryffindor table, she spots a few delights and snaps her fingers at Harry. The gesture eliciting looks of disbelief and envy from the boys, as well as sheer disbelief from the girls, namely Ginny and Hermione.

"I will be having zat clafoutis over zere. Bring it to me right now." While standing behind a few gawking boys, Fleur steps aside to let Harry through. He practically leans over Seamus and Ron to grab a plate from the table.

Meanwhile, Ginny looks at Hermione as the pair can scarcely believe this subservience. A few other girls, including Fay, Parvati, Lavender, and Eloise fervently discuss Fleur's dominant display. It would take them a while to realize that she's part-veela. Though the awestruck looks from nearly every boy provide a clear clue.

With the plate of dessert in hand, Harry straightens up and holds it out before Fleur. She now folds her arms haughtily and speaks, "Taste it first and tell me if it is any good, 'Arry."

The request is swiftly obliged as he bites off a piece from the baked dessert's end. "Oh yes, it's lovely, for real."

"Very well zen. I suppose whoever made zat is fairly competent. Now, I would like to keep zese arms warm..." She remains standing with folded arms, and Harry gets the hint. His next gesture elicits reactions across the table—and possibly the room—as he grabs the remaining dessert.

"Is this a joke? You've gotta be kidding me!" says Ginny nearby. Hermione also remains staring as Harry obediently brings the half clafoutis slice to Fleur's mouth. Yet he also cannot resist glancing at her lips. Then, with a triumphant grin, she lets him feed her as she turns to acknowledge the Gryffindors.

While nodding towards Harry, Fleur speaks to those nearby. "Ze _great_ 'Arry Potter indeed." She then orders him to place the plate back down, before having him return to the Ravenclaw table with her. "Let us sit down and listen to zat very old man talk."

Dumbledore soon announces the official opening of the Tournament and reveals the Goblet of Fire. Meanwhile, Harry places a few treats in his plate and listens as the rules and restrictions of the Tournament are announced. His lack of attention provides an opportunity for Fleur to snatch his desserts. As Dumbledore upsets the Great Hall by explaining his Age Line around the Goblet, Harry looks down sadly at his emptied plate. To his left, Fleur swallows her third piece of cake before smiling at the uproar being silenced by Dumbledore.

"'Ow very unfortunate for zose not of age." She then turns to smirk at Harry, who pokes around his emptied plate, courtesy of her. "But you will of course be cheering for me? Ze 'Arry Potter must applaud his superiors."

Seated on Fleur's left, Pansy swallows a piece of cupcake before speaking. "Well that depends on who the Hogwarts champion would be."

Alyssa adds her bit in the conversation. "Durmstrang seems likely to have Viktor Krum as their contestant. I'm pretty sure the Goblet would know he's got skill."

"Well, Alyssa, who do you zink would be ze Beauxbatons champion?" asks Fleur, while tilting her head with an expectant expression.

"Honestly, you're the best of us all." Alyssa smiles kindly, which Harry notes Pansy also does to her close friends. "I reckon you'll be our champion, Fleur."

"You sound as if you are not entering. Zen why 'as Madame Maxime brought you along?" Then she turns to Harry and swipes away the biscuit he's about to bite. After finishing it, she speaks, "You will be in ze entrance 'all while we see who else enters tomorrow, yes?"

"Hey, part-veela, my cousin's here to spend time with me. So get that into your head," adds Pansy, while glaring at the amused Fleur who mockingly pats her on the head.

"Very defensive leettle doggie, good girl."

"Hmph!" Pansy blows a raspberry before smiling at Alyssa once more. The older Parkinson returns the gesture before Dumbledore declares it to be time for bed. Soon, students and staff stand up then head for the Great Hall's double doors.

While looking at Harry, Fleur speaks, "We will of course be sleeping in our big carriage. Too bad zat you are not allowed wiz us. I would 'ave liked to 'ave ze 'Arry Potter as my servant again."

After having heard enough of tonight's interaction between Harry, Fleur, and the Parkinsons, a Ravenclaw boy speaks. "You people are weird. That's all I'm going to say."

"Is my leetle 'Arry servant going on ze attack now?" asks Fleur, as Harry glares at the Ravenclaw walking past them. "Better not get yourself in trouble 'ere. Would not make a very good impression on us guests."

"Oh wow, finally something good and helpful comes out your mouth," says Pansy, before leaving to rejoin the rest of the girls at the Slytherin table. "Uh, Harry? Don't forget to head towards the dungeons tonight, and not to the carriage outside."

"Goodnight, Fleur."

She looks at Harry before softly laughing. "Sleep well zen, or as well as it can get in zis terribly cold castle. It does make me shiver in 'ere!"

Harry now sees her exit the castle before he heads towards the dungeons. Once inside the common room, all five girls relentlessly tease him over tonight's interaction with Fleur. Most of the boys end up trying to get themselves in a similar position, and so ideas of all sorts echo across the room. None of which Harry reckons would even work.

"Goodnight, 'Arry, oh do sleep well and dream about me!" says Sally-Anne, in a most teasing manner while trying to imitate Fleur.

"Yes, you will 'ave many dreams about me, will you not? Zis is only normal for a boy your age," says a giggling Daphne.

Then comes Pansy with an overly mocking French voice. "Oooooh _merde_ , zis boy 'as so got ze hots for mee! I'll bet 'e wants to show me 'is big broomsteek."

"Come on, girls, no need to tease 'Arry like this," says Millicent.

"He's eenfatuated weeth zat girl," replies Tracey.

As usual, Pansy tries to have the last word. "So, 'Arry, what poseetion would you prefer? And I am not talking about ze Quidditch."

"That's it, bye, goodnight, I'll see you all tomorrow." Harry practically flees to his dormitory to freshen up and get an early night's rest. For tomorrow brings...

"SATURDAY!"

Pansy and Tracey's excitement nearby has Harry up early for today. He swiftly freshens up before heading to the common room. Its atmosphere certainly one of excitement and anticipation. To Harry's amusement, little Irma Flint certainly follows her brother's way as she hypes up the gathering crowd. Though she has to stand atop a table to be seen by all.

"Who's gonna dominate out there today?"

"Us!" replies most of the crowd gathered around.

"TOO SOFT, YOU NEED MORE EMPHASIS!" yells Marcus Flint, racing out the dormitories to show his sibling how it's done. Of all the players in today's squad, none displays more nerves than Draco. He walks at the front of the group heading towards the Quidditch pitch, and notes that his parents will certainly be here today.

"Relax, or else Diggory's gonna get the drop on you. My Firebolt's ready if you'd like it," says Harry, as they switch to their Quidditch robes before breakfast. This would allow the foreign delegation in the Great Hall to see who's playing.

Draco gives the offer some thought before shaking his head. "I think I'll pass. Don't want everyone thinking I'm only as good as the broom."

"Ha, says the guy who went and bought us all Nimbus 2001's in second year," says Harry. "No offense but Diggory's a terrific player too. Better that you take this advantage and win. Rather than risk costing us the game in front of so many people."

Flint overhears the conversation before nodding. "Harry's right, there's more than just the usual spectators of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. Now we got the foreigners plus Triwizard folks plus others coming in to see."

"I said I'm fine. Potter, you keep that Firebolt to yourself today."

The squad soon returns to the castle where they stop to view the Goblet of Fire. The Tournament's 'impartial judge' having been placed in the entrance hall earlier this morning.

"Anyone entering? I'm not cut out for this stuff," says Flint.

"Yeah, give me a moment." Cassius Warrington withdraws a piece of parchment from his pocket before stepping over the age line. Over a dozen students nearby watch as he places his name inside. Then the Slytherin team roars with approval, while others politely clap.

"Hell yes, hopefully we get a Slytherin champion for this school!" cheers Harry.

Upon entering the Great Hall the team is greeted to a round of applause, mainly from the Slytherin table as well as the foreign students. It's always felt a little strange, and yet refreshing, for Harry to be here in Quidditch attire. For it brings about the pride of being a sportsman, which he's never enjoyed before Hogwarts.

The Hufflepuff team soon enters from behind them and comes to a halt mid-way down the aisle. Both squads now eyeing each other. Then the Chasers stand metres apart, and many a foreign student discuss Harry's apparent disadvantage in size.

"He looks more like a Seeker to me," says a rather tall girl from Durmstrang.

Sitting beside her are a few lower year Slytherins, including Astoria who speaks. "Well, that is Harry's main position. But you see that blond boy over there? That's Draco Malfoy, his family's very wealthy and influential. He's a Seeker too, and so Harry moves to Chaser to let him play."

Adding to this, a second year boy, Yarrow MacDougal, nods. "But Harry always comes out in Seeker when we play Gryffindor... that table over there. They're our main rivals."

"This House system sounds interesting, ve do not haff such things by us. Do tell more, little children," says the Durmstrang student, before her peers listen in as well. Meanwhile, both teams now head towards their respective tables. But as Harry walks ahead, he glances right to see Fleur sitting at the same spot as last night. With a hand over her mouth, she appears to be sniggering at him.

"Hmph." Harry casually walks over to take a seat beside Tracey who chuckles.

"Your new pal seems to be having a good laugh at you. Maybe she likes you, or not, I dunno. But don't let it get you down because we all know how adorable you look like this."

Millicent nods in agreement. "The robes match the eyes, as we always say. Let Madame posh silvery-blonde Beauxbatons have her little laugh."

"Well isn't she all full of herself? I can understand why I'm seeing Granger sometimes glaring at her," says Daphne firmly. "By the way, all the Durmstrangs have put their names in the Goblet of Fire so far this morni—"

A tremendous applause suddenly sounds from the Hufflepuff table, as it soon becomes known that Diggory's entered his name into the Goblet. Then the rest of the school—with only soft applause from Slytherin—joins in on the cheers.

"Well, look who's put his name in, can't say it wasn't expected. What a lucky sixth year to be seventeen, eh?" Sally-Anne's remark brings about murmurs of agreement around the table.

Harry soon scoffs before speaking to his girls. "Flint's got his first match in front of Irma today, Warrington's entered the Tournament, and I'm gonna show Fleur that I'm no laughing stock."

"And Diggory's got extra motivation as well, so it'll be an interesting match today," says Tracey. "Why you so quiet, Pansy?"

"Hmm? Oh I was just looking at my cousin. Funny how Miss Delacour seems all dominant and watchful over her." Pansy gestures towards the Ravenclaw table where Alyssa seems to be kept under close scrutiny by Fleur. Meanwhile, Harry looks to the far right down the Slytherin table to see Irma seemingly fussing over her older brother.

After breakfast, Harry tries to join the rest of the crowd gathering in the entrance hall but is beckoned over by Fleur. She seems to be keeping an eye on some of the other Beauxbatons girls, namely Alyssa who's sitting in the hall beside Pansy. Both cousins reading their usual magazines while sharing gossip.

"Go to your new mistress, Chaser boy," laughs Daphne, who ushers Harry over towards the marble steps where Fleur stands. Daphne then returns to Sally-Anne, Millicent, and Tracey as they head outside to sit in the entrance courtyard.

"Well isn't ze leetle boy looking like a green teddy bear in 'is Quidditch uniform."

"Why does every girl end up teasing me?" mutters Harry.

"Why are you talking to yourself?" Fleur looks at him curiously, which Harry finds amusing. Though it also makes him feel like a specimen being observed. "Sit, young 'Arry, and let us see who puts zair name in ze Goblet of Fire."

"I have a match coming up you know, if you even care." Harry then shrugs his shoulders while sitting on the steps. "But I'm pretty sure it means nothing compared to your glorious Triwizard Tournament."

The remark elicits a snort of laughter from Fleur. "Sit and be quiet. You 'ave anuzzer 'our until your match."

"Heck yes, what better place to be right now?" Harry cosies himself against the staircase railing, while Fleur stands beside him, watching over the entrance hall. Minutes later, a pair of Beauxbatons boys exit the Great Hall with pieces of parchment in hand.

"Looks like zey will be entering as well. Okay, nuzzing to worry about so far," whispers Fleur, before the boys glance at her.

"'Ave you entered yet?" one male student asks her, while the other frowns at Harry.

"Give me twenty more minutes zen I will put my name inside. Save ze best for later, after more of you 'ave entered," replies Fleur.

"Well do 'urry it up because Madame Maxime wants our names in as soon as possible." The second Beauxbatons boy now turns to look at Alyssa, who remains giggling with Pansy over a magazine. "I believe it is just Fleur and you zat must still enter, and ze Durmstrang lot 'ave finished as well. 'Ogwarts students 'ave also placed zeir names in."

"Huh? Oh, sorry, been stuck in this magazine. No, I'm not entering the Tournament," says Alyssa.

" _Ça alors_ , Parkinson! You are wasting your time 'ere zen," replies the first boy, before both exit the castle.

"Please, I'm already rich and pretty. What more does a girl need?" asks an offended Alyssa, once the boys are gone.

"Hmph, uptight couple of idiots," says Pansy, before opening a second magazine to browse.

Having observed the interactions ahead, Fleur turns to look down at Harry. "What do you zink? Is she lying about entering?"

"Nah, I reckon Alyssa's telling the truth. She doesn't strike me as someone seeking ambitious glory."

"My Engleesh is not evidently good, so do explain again. She does not 'strike' you? 'Ave you two fought before?"

Caught between admiring, and wanting to laugh at the confused expression of Fleur, Harry stifles a grin. "Great, now it's like being back at St. Grogory's. I'll have you know that I turned one teacher's wig blue there by accident, hahaha!"

A groan—which Harry finds quite cute—soon comes from Fleur. "You are making no sense, 'Arry Potter." She, almost childishly, stomps her foot on the staircase before scowling. "Explain properly what you 'ave just said!"

"Okay, so when I used 'strike' it means the impression that someone gives off. So let me use an example: you strike me as a pretty girl. Understand?"

She nods before letting him continue.

"So Alyssa does not seem to be the type of person who will seek out glory in the Triwizard Tournament. I think she's just happy to have come to Hogwarts."

"Yes, zat certainly makes sense. I 'ave 'eard zat 'er parents moved to France back when ze Dark Lord was attacking 'ere years ago. Alyssa 'as always said she does not 'ave time to visit uzzer family far away. Life in France can get very fast and busy you see. And before you make zat joke I 'ave 'eard too much times, France is not just ze Eiffel Tower."

"I didn't say anything."

"Okay, but I 'ave 'eard it enough times to not be funny any longer. Now, explain what you 'ave said afterwards."

Harry's amused expression while looking up at Fleur has her folding her arms once more, before he speaks. "I was being sarcastic about your English. St. Grogory's was the Muggle, that's people without magic—"

"We do call zem Non-magiques."

"—oh that's so _very_ creative, sorry, sarcasm again. Anyway, St. Grogory's was the _Non-magique_ school I attended before coming to Hogwarts—"

" _Merde_ , zat means 'shit', you went to school with Non-magiques? I mean we do not so much 'ate zem but still, zat is a bit of a waste of your life zere. Shame, poor boy. And 'ere I zought it was a lie zat you lived wiz ze 'Muggles' as you call zem. Okay, explain on."

"This joke is so dead already, argh, fine. So when you said your English is bad I made a sarcastic remark with regards to being back at Muggle school. Because they teach us about English there. Oh, and I accidentally turned my teacher's wig blue when I was younger. There, that was the joke: it's like being back in English class now, sort of."

Fleur then laughs rather loudly, catching the attention of many students entering the entrance hall. But Harry's expression displays bewilderment upon seeing her laughter.

"Wait what? The joke's been explained, killed, and buried already. It's no longer funny... how is this funny?" he asks, seemingly to himself while looking up at the laughing girl. "You are weird."

"I am weird? You are ze weird one 'ere telling silly jokes like zat. Making fun of my Engleesh, 'ow dare you..."

"Want me to eemprove on your Eengleesh? I don't mind, really, since you lot are probably gonna be here all year. That's if you have time for a little peasant"—the term makes Fleur snort again—"like me. Oh Miss High-and-Mighty Triwizard champion."

"Yes! Very good indeed, I shall most definitely be ze Beauxbatons—"

"Boo-baa-tarns? You people say it so cutely."

"—shhhhh! As I was saying: I will be ze Beauxbatons champion, yes. And you will do well in today's match, yes?"

"Well it's a team effort, so hopefully yeah. I'll do my best, although it's up to the Seeker to end the game and give us the plus 150 points on the table. Whoever has the most points after all six games ends up the winner of the Quidditch Cup."

"Zen my leetle rubbish-speaking, weird, servant 'Arry will win 'is Cup at ze end. And I will win ze Triwizard Tournament at ze end of three tasks."

"Don't put pressure on me like that..."

"If you play like a rubbish loser zen I will act like I do not know you. It will be embarrassing for me, understood?"

"Whew, I'm surprised that knowing Alyssa hasn't improved your English over the years, Fleur."

"Oh let me zink... she has lived many years in France, can speak ze French, and goes to Beauxbatons wiz many, many French-speaking students. Is zere a brain in 'ere?" Fleur kneels down and mockingly knocks on Harry's head.

"Haha, very funny. Okay, fine, she speaks French to you all, and English here since she's back home. Well sorry if I don't know too much about living overseas."

"So zere is a brain in ze kitten wiz ze good eyes."

"You mean _beautiful,_ or _nice,_ eyes. Because if you say 'good' then it most likely means they're not evil." Harry grins smugly at Fleur, who now rolls up her sleeve.

"Twenty minutes until it is eleven. Time to see you play, 'opefully good enough to match zat big ego of yours."

"How about you do me a favour and cheer for me?" Harry's remark elicits a derisive scoff from Fleur.

"Keep on dreaming zen, as ze saying goes. But you can do me a favour and give zat scarf because zis weather is terribly cold 'ere. Our chateau is evidently better 'eated zan your dreadful castle."

Harry's green-and-silver scarf is swiftly yanked away by Fleur. "Wait, it smells of my..."

She then sniffs it and slightly wrinkles her nose.

"...sweat."

With a slight shrug, Fleur simply wraps it around her neck before descending the steps. After passing the Goblet of Fire, Harry turns to her as they stand in the empty entrance hall.

"Aren't you gonna put your name in?"

She grins smugly. "Well if you do good enough, leetle 'Arry, zen you can 'ave ze privilege of accompanying me. Zere will of course be many students to see 'ere after ze match, yes?"

"Hold on, who's whose 'trophy' here?"

"Zat is for you to figure out, boy."

By now, most of the school, including the teams, have converged on the Quidditch stadium. But as Harry and Fleur traverse the castle grounds, the latter suddenly smiles wickedly.

"And now? Um, what's with that sudden smile?"

"I will be at ze Gryffindor stands for zis match."

"What?" Harry looks at her in bewilderment as they near the stadium. "With that scarf? Are you sure? Gryffindor doesn't exactly like us Slytherins."

"I know all about zat, but I zink it will be fun. You do not 'ave a problem wiz it, no?"

Harry shakes his head then continues down the slopes with her. Once at the stadium, he's about to head off towards the locker rooms before spotting Fleur fiddling at her neck. Harry's confusion soon turns to a soft laugh upon seeing her adjusting the scarf.

"Zat should do it, yes." She walks off with the silvery words of _Harry Potter_ clearly visible across the scarf, much to its owner's amusement. With minutes to go before 11, Harry races towards the locker room where Flint stands addressing the team.

"I don't think I need to stress the importance of this match. Not only is this _really_ my final year, but we also have a hell of a crowd looking on. From France to Britain to Scotland to the Slavs to wherever else, these people have come for the Triwizard Tournament. But let's give them something else to remember when they go home, something by the name of team..."

"SLYTHERIN!"

"... and Harry, I dunno how you got in with _that_ French girl but hey, give her a show out there." Flint's comment has the room whistling, and wondering, how Harry's seemingly befriended Fleur so swiftly.

"Er, well, there's no guarantee we're actually even friends," he argues, but to no avail as Flint finalizes their tactics.

"I've seen Diggory and I think we can all agree that he's really hyped up for this match. Let's not forget that he's got his name in the Goblet, so that'll spark a real fire in him. Warrington, I hope the same spark's burning in you today. There's plenty of motivation for Hufflepuff to win, so let's show 'em we've got more to play for!"

Thunderous cheers are clearly heard as the teams line up in their respective tunnels. Rarely before has Harry felt this much excitement for a match, not even for the previous Cup final itself. In truth, he had been expecting Ludo Bagman to commentate as he's present. But by the sound of things it's Lee Jordan behind the magical megaphone once more.

"Don't worry," says Flint, while standing right at the tunnel's exit. "I heard McGonagall give him such a firm lecture on neutral commentary for today that even he'll be cool."

They now mount their brooms to fly out for their pre-planned entrance show, while the stands above cheer them on.

(A/N: Well, I suppose Two Steps From Hell's song "Never Back Down" seems slightly similar to how I imagine the Slytherin crowd to sound.)


	13. Hufflepuff vs. Slytherin

_Quidditch Pitch, October 31st, 1994._

The stands are absolutely packed for the first match of Hogwarts' Quidditch season. With Hufflepuff already having made their entrance, Slytherin follows through by flying around the pitch. All the while, Lee Jordan appears to be keeping things neutral behind the megaphone:

"We've got Hufflepuff's Chasers being Malcolm Preece, Tamsin Applebee, and Heidi Macavoy. Beaters: Maxine O'Flaherty and Anthony Rickett. Herbert Fleet starts at the goalposts, and Captain Cedric Diggory plays Seeker today."

But he seems to have spotted something new, which has every Hufflepuff supporter cheering wildly.

"HEY! Well what do you know? Looks like Team Hufflepuff's gotten a new set of brooms! It seems Mr. Amos Diggory has sponsored his son's team with seven Nimbus 1700's. So what if Slytherin's got 2001's? The 1700 series still holds up remarkably well, just a tad slower than the 2000. This ought to be a great show indeed!"

A moment's pause is followed by introducing their opponents.

"Here comes team Slytherin. Miles Bletchley starts at the posts, Beaters are Peregrine Derrick and Lucian Bole. Seeker's being played by Draco Malfoy today. Three more green folks coming out as Captain Marcus Flint leads the pack of Chasers, followed by Cassius Warrington and Harry Potter. If there's one thing to watch out for it's this: Potter's Firebolt."

Many a foreign spectator, as well those who haven't seen Hogwarts' Quidditch recently, now express their surprise.

"Yes folks, Harry Potter owns a FIREBOLT! Not only that, but look how he's decked it out with stripes of green to show some Slytherin pride."

The wind in his face, and roaring crowds passing by, Harry flies behind his team. They swiftly gather in mid-air above the centre of the pitch. After listening to Flint express his surprise at Hufflepuff's unexpectedly new brooms, Harry draws his wand.

"Looks like the team's forming a circle around Potter, what's he doing? Madam Hooch remains waiting near the Hufflepuff squad for Slytherin to finish their entrance..."

Harry now stands atop his broom. But although he's used to balancing like this, quite a bit of the crowd appear anxiously surprised. It helps that he's timed it with a lull in the breeze before aiming ahead.

"Okay, seriously, what is Harry Potter doing up there? Why's the team still circling around him? Are they panicking over their first full-on set of Nimbus opponents? Two models before the 2001 ought to give them a well-deserved challenge today."

Jordan's comments are soon ignored by Harry, who shuts his eyes to recall as many joyful moments as possible. Using the cheers of the Slytherin stands, and knowing that Fleur's watching, he then opens his eyes once more.

_"Expecto Patronum!"_

A silvery serpent bursts forth from the tip of his wand, the Patronus being a good few metres in length. It shines brightly against the cloudy grey skies and slithers through the air, circling around the applauding team. The sudden silence now followed by a thunderous cheer from the Slytherin crowd, before Jordan speaks.

"What in the—? Is that a Patronus? An  _actual_  one? No bloody WAY! How, where... when did he learn  _that_? IT'S A SNAKE I TELL YOU! LOOK AT THE SLYTHERINS ABSOLUTELY LOSE THEIR MINDS! DARN, POTTER, THIS IS MENTAL!"

Chants of 'Harry' echo throughout his crowd, and even the other Houses have to politely applaud the corporeal Patronus. With his arm raised as the snake slithers around him, Harry wonders if this might cause concern amongst the adults. For it's slightly similar to the image of the Dark Mark in the air.

"What are the chances, just WHAT ARE THE CHANCES that a star player happens to conjure up a Patronus of their House animal? This could be history made right here I think. CRAZY MADNESS!" Jordan's yells of disbelief only bolster the Slytherin crowd's delight.

Harry then turns to look at the visitors and staff stands packed with impressed spectators. While squinting, he makes out a group of redheads who'd be the rest of the Weasley family. Sirius might possibly be somewhere here too, although Harry's not entirely sure. He also spots Ludo Bagman applauding wildly from the front of the stands, while the ever-stressed Mr. Crouch politely claps.

It helps that the Gryffindor stands are relatively close by, as Harry swiftly tries to spot Fleur. A task that's tremendously difficult since nearly everyone's in casual wear instead of school uniform. Then, at the front row, Fleur seems to be standing beside a group of gawking boys. Harry's staring soon interrupted by Madam Hooch flying up towards him.

"A very commendable show, Mr. Potter, but there's a match that needs to begin."

"Oh, my bad." He dispels the Patronus then descends to eventually hover beside Flint and Warrington. Once the Snitch and Bludgers are released, the Quaffle is left to hover above as Madam Hooch blows her whistle. Fourteen players rise to take their roles as the match begins.

" _HUFFLEPUFF, DO YOUR STUFF!_ " chants Diggory's supporters, while Slytherin and a few others cheer on the team of green and silver.

_"SLYTHERIN, THROW 'EM BADGERS IN THE BIN!"_

The chants now has Jordan sigh before speaking. "To all our new spectators, Slytherin tends to be like this. But I'm sure any Hogwarts alumni in the crowd would know. Anyway... the Quaffle is grabbed by Preece who tosses it to Applebee, both Chasers outmanoeuvring their opponents in remarkable fashion!"

Indeed, Harry spins around on his Firebolt to see Flint and Warrington being outflown by Hufflepuff's group. Clearly they're caught off-guard by these new brooms which lessen the 2001's advantage.

"Flint and Warrington are caught on the turn as Preece and Applebee link up with Macavoy down the right flank. The speed and agility of Slytherins' brooms may still be superior, but Hufflepuff have certainly lessened the gap. Their sheer skill giving them the edge today, unless Flint changes his usual tactics."

Just as Harry's about to accelerate towards the right Slytherin goalpost, Flint gestures for him to halt. The Captain now having Warrington head to cover Bletchley before addressing Harry.

"I have an idea. Hufflepuff's got confidence on their top brooms from last decade. The Nimbus 1700 series were"—Flint and Harry swiftly evade a Bludger before continuing to speak—"the best back then. They're slightly better than Cleansweep Sevens today, so we'll let 'em score thrice first."

With Bole on the lookout for Bludgers, Harry turns to looks questioningly at Flint. "But why?"

"Give them confidence, and then we hit 'em right back, no mercy with that Firebolt."

Nodding, Harry steadily flies beside Flint as they attempt to intercept the next few passes, though actually letting their opponents succeed. Bletchley seems confused as he's so swiftly challenged in the match, much to Jordan's delight.

"Awfully early defence of goal by Slytherin. Here comes Preece who shoots... SAVED by Bletchley who tosses to Flint. Wait, it's intercepted by Applebee who tosses to Macavoy on the far left. Hufflepuff now narrowly keeping their Chasers out of the scoring zone together, clever. This prevents a stooging foul as Macavoy goes forward to... SCORE through the unguarded left hoop! TEN-ZERO TO HUFFLEPUFF, FIRST GOAL OF THE NEW SEASON!"

Harry can only imagine Amos Diggory cheering with the rest of the Hufflepuffs. The latter's pride in his son being well known throughout the school, and much envied by Harry. Now, banners, flags, and all other means of showing yellow and black are displayed across their supporters' stands.

Bletchley restarts play by passing to Warrington who speeds forward along the right. Two Hufflepuff Chasers accelerate hard on their Nimbus 1700's, eventually catching up to him. From the looks of things, Harry can tell that none of his teammates enjoy having lost their significant broom advantage. Jordan's commentary, although forced to remain neutral, does stray just a bit against them too.

"Well, that was a rather swift goal which seems to have shaken up Flint's boys. Oh, Warrington's dispossessed by Applebee who makes good use of her new broom. The Nimbus, even a dated 1700 model, performs better than a modern Cleansweep Seven, for comparison. Look how Applebee spins so cleanly around before passing to Macavoy. Finally, a match where both sides have sporty brooms. It's surprising that Potter hasn't done anything worthwhile yet."

Watching the Quaffle hurled over Flint towards Preece elicits much approval from Hufflepuff's supporters. Then Diggory's Chasers form up in an attacking formation while Slytherin follows through. As ordered by Flint, Harry only flies as fast as his teammates, for now.

"Slytherin trying to use their broom advantage once again, but it seems the 1700 has allowed enough Hufflepuff talent to come out and play. Flint moves to intercept Preece's pass as they near goal but can't quite make it. Quaffle grabbed by Applebee as she now ducks down to evade that Bludger. O'Flaherty comes in, faster than Slytherin's used to, as she whacks it away towards the searching Malfoy in the distance."

Just as Flint had guessed, it certainly seems that Hufflepuff are playing on confidence. After outpassing Warrington and Flint, Macavoy drops the Quaffle before letting Preece take the shot.

"... GOAL! IT'S ANOTHER GOAL! TWO FROM TWO SHOTS! THAT PUTS HUFFLEPUFF UP BY TWENTY TO SLYTHERIN'S ZERO SO FAR!"

"There's a word for this," says Harry, upon having Flint fly beside him. "Some Muggle psychology term that I can't remember. Something with a 'p'. Poloceno, nah that's not it. Palacedo? No it's quite close to that."

"What are you talking about?" asks a visibly confused Flint.

"Hufflepuff are good but even more so from the confidence in their brooms. Even though ours are still better, they  _feel_  that they're superior in the air. That's how they're hammering poor Bletchley," replies Harry.

"Well, to hell with whatever Muggle word you're trying to remember. We just gotta let them have one more before we bring 'em back to reality."

Jordan continues to commentate on what appears to be Slytherin's "wake up call" today. "Play restarts with Flint getting the Quaffle. He tries to pass to Potter but is intercepted by Preece. Man, Harry Potter hasn't even laid a finger on the Quaffle yet. Diggory's really prepped his team for today, with dad's help, of course. Perhaps it's time for you to return to Seeker position, Potter? No offence intended."

While flying behind Flint and Warrington in the centre of the pitch, Harry scoffs. Meanwhile, Derrick races to deflect a Bludger from hitting Flint as the Quaffle is taken forward by Preece.

"Here comes the Badgers once more as they fly wide apart in spread-out formation. Bletchley looks quite upset at being constantly challenged, and who can blame 'em? Warrington and Potter double team Preece who rolls aside to pass to Macavoy in the centre. Flint's waiting but too late as she now passes to Applebee who goes forward to shoot. Quaffle hits the knee-guard of Bletchley but is caught on the rebound by Preece! There it goes... through the left hoop... GOAL INDEED! THIRTY-ZERO IN FAVOUR OF HUFFLEPUFF!"

"What the hell are you people doing?" asks Bletchley, to which Flint signals a 'calm-down' gesture with his left arm. Then he signals the all-clear for them to let loose, much to the stadium's bemusement. Hufflepuff's supporters now remain tremendously loud.

"I see Marcus Flint signalling something to his Chasers. Not sure what that means exactly... looks like he's making a fist then opening his hand. Okay then, um, cool I guess. Alright, game restarts as Bletchley retrieves the Quaffle to pass towards Warrington. Caught, and is now hurled towards Flint in the centre. Whoops, Macavoy, Preece and Applebee do the good ol' Parkin's Pincer move on the Captain."

Harry spins around to see three opposing Chasers converge on Flint, their brooms faster than expected. Soon the Quaffle once again ends up in Hufflepuff's possession as Applebee flies to challenge Bletchley more.

"Oh darn, underestimated them again," says Flint, as Bletchley is narrowly beaten to the goal.

"ANOTHER ONE IN! FOURTY-ZERO IN FAVOUR OF HUFFLEPUFF OVER SLYTHERIN. Looks like Flint's calling a time-out. Not a moment too soon as the Nimbus 2001 squad, with a Firebolt, are getting battered by a blast from the past 1700 series."

The team now lands beside the pitch amidst near-deafening pro-Hufflepuff cheers. Malfoy and Bletchley seem most disappointed in the Chasers' performances so far. But Flint swiftly silences them before speaking.

"Okay look, so we've underestimated Cedric Diggory's squad today. I didn't want that fourth one to go in but it looks like we've gotta get back into this fight."

Harry looks up at the jeering crowd before turning to Flint. "Hey, why the hell are we having our time-out near the Gryffindor stands? Slytherin's over there you know."

"Whatever, doesn't matter now. Okay, here's the deal, we're gonna go in violent and play rough with these Badgers. Derrick and Bole I want you guys on high alert and more actively seeking out them Bludgers. Malfoy, find that Snitch as soon as possible, don't wait for a sign to start chasing it. Bletchley, sorry about our stupid start. We'll make things right now, especially since Harry over here's gonna exploit that Firebolt, right?"

Harry nods as Madam Hooch soon comes walking over.

"You boys ready to resume play yet? There's no reason to keep time-out going any longer."

"Yes, ma'am." They mount their brooms once more as the whistle is blown. Being right before the Gryffindor crowd means they're laughed and jeered at for their performances thus far. Harry, in particular, becomes the centre of insults.

"What's the use that he's got such an expensive broom if he can't use it?" yells someone in the crowd.

" _NIMBUS '01, GOING DOWN! POTTER'S AT FAULT, EVEN WITH A FIREBOLT!"_ chants the crowd, with Harry hovering right before the mass of students.

He soon locks eyes with Fleur in the front row, who stands with her hands in her pockets. Then she tilts her head slightly to the side, letting her silvery blonde hair catch the light breeze. Harry's attention now focused solely on her, ignoring even Ginny and Hermione standing a slight distance to the left. He can't help but beam with a smile as Fleur tucks the ends of his scarf beneath her tracksuit's neckline.

"Slytherin are going down!" yells quite a few students across the stands. "Not so good when you're no longer the only Nimbus group out there, huh?"

Harry's persistent grin annoys many a Hufflepuff supporter in the crowd, before he spins around to link up with his teammates. With the Quaffle dropped in the centre by Madam Hooch, play now resumes between the teams.

"And they're off again as the match resumes on 40-0 to Hufflepuff. Preece gets the Quaffle and passes over Flint to Applebee. No, wait, it's cut out by Potter who finally gets his hands on it today. Macavoy comes to dispossess him but —WHAM— OH! she's hit by a Bludger to the arm. Seems alright though."

Determined not to be embarrassed after his flashy entrance, Harry leans low on the broom. Seconds later, he flies at over 100 mph as the stadium's noise is all but drowned out by the wind in Harry's ears. Flint and Warrington struggle to keep pace with the Firebolt, but are coming up from behind.

"CRAZY ACCELERATION LIKE THAT! I'D NEVER GO SO FAST SO SOON LIKE POTTER. Look at him speed down that right flank as he now passes to Warrington coming up on his left. Potter ducks beneath Warrington to take the centre route before receiving the Quaffle once more. Two Hufflepuff Chasers now approach from Potter's left... OH! TECHNIQUE THERE!"

Harry braces himself before rolling to the left, going wildly up and over the approaching Chasers as the crowd gawks.

"Mental! There goes Potter down the centre with Flint coming up on his right. Potter speeds ahead to challenge Fleet. No, he's tossed the Quaffle behind to Flint who shoots... SAVED by Fleet. Potter and Flint double back as Warrington punches the rebound. Oh it hits the top side of the right post... UNLUCKY!"

But the Quaffle's still in play while Fleet hurries left.

"Say hello to my little Firebolt," taunts Harry towards the Hufflepuff Keeper, before accelerating to reach the Quaffle first. With a flick of the broom's tail end, the Quaffle is blasted through the right goalpost. Finally, the Slytherin crowd come alive once more, and Jordan yells into the megaphone.

"FIRST GOAL FOR SLYTHERIN COMES FROM POTTER! BUT THEY STILL TRAIL BY THIRTY POINTS AS IT'S FOURTY-TEN! Now Fleet picks up the Quaffle to pass to Preece. Potter speeds in from the left, right near the Keeper to dispossess Preece, look at that mental-ness!"

Indeed, Harry feels a sudden urge to circle near the posts before rolling to fly upside down. Then he simply tosses the Quaffle into a hoop merely a few metres away. The seemingly disrespectful goal earning him a tremendous amount of boos from Hufflepuff's supporters.

"FOURTY-TWENTY AS POTTER SLOTS AWAY THAT ONE!" shouts Jordan, while the Slytherin supporters can be heard urging their team on. As the game restarts, Flint appears to have picked up the pace again. His increased aggression soon leads to quicker possession, and more fouls.

"Penalty for Hufflepuff from Warrington's cobbing on Preece! Macavoy flies in from the centre to take it... she shoots to the left, no... right... SAVED BY BLETCHLEY! Quaffle now tossed by the Slytherin Keeper towards Potter who takes full advantage of that acceleration. Nought to one-fifty just like that down the left flank...OH! He narrowly evades that Bludger with a nice sloth grip roll."

Harry speeds down the left side of the pitch before cutting in diagonally towards the centre. Although certainly faster than the rest, this also puts him at greater risk of being hit by a Bludger. For his superior broom outflies even his own fellow Beaters as well.

"Flint shakes off Applebee in the centre as he comes to take that pass. Warrington flies up to Flint's right as they now approach the hoops. Quaffle passed to Warrington as Flint backs off. Warrington shoots... SAVED by Fleet! No Hufflepuff Chasers nearby to scoop up the Quaffle as Warrington takes a second shot to... SCORE THROUGH THE RIGHT HOOP! FOURTY-THIRTY IT IS!"

Right as Harry intercepts a Hufflepuff pass in the centre of the pitch, he rolls aside as Diggory streaks past. Draco now hurriedly giving chase as they set their sights on a glimmer of gold.

"IT IS ON, PEOPLE! Both Diggory and Malfoy have seen the Snitch. Here goes the battle for the one-fifty on the board."

With Quaffle in hand, Harry hurls it to his left as Flint flies past. The Captain now orders Derrick to defend the Slytherin half of the pitch while Bole follows the Chasers. They form up in an L before Bole joins up at the left, completing the upside down T as the Quaffle is passed back to Harry.

"Looks like Flint, Warrington, and Bole have taken to putting themselves between Potter and the opposition. Here comes another attack on Hufflepuff's defence as Preece dodges Bole's Bludger. Applebee and Macavoy fly in from the sides but Flint and Warrington use their size to the advantage."

"GO!" yells Flint, signalling for Harry to race ahead into the scoring zone. The latter looks up upon swerving on the turn as Fleet patrols the hoops.

"Potter hurls that Quaffle to the centre, wait, left, no he's actually going for the right! Fleet's already committed to the left... GOAL BY POTTER YET AGAIN! FOURTY ALL NOW AS THEY'RE EVEN!"

Waiting for Fleet to pass to one of his Chasers, Harry now flies around the right side of the pitch. Once Applebee's in possession he bolts through the air towards her before hearing the whistle being blown.

"OH MAN!" shouts Jordan. "What a gre— ahem, 'nasty' blow on Draco Malfoy from Anthony Rickett's Bludger shot! The Slytherin Seeker's down and in need of some healing now! Well it's too bad that we don't have mediwizards out there now, shame."

The game is paused as Harry and the rest converge on the injured Draco, who's laying beside his broom at the boundary. Indeed, Jordan's words —even if sarcastic— ring true as mediwizards only attend greater Quidditch events. The World Cup and Quidditch Leagues being prime examples.

"Can't we get Madam Pomfrey out here now? Or someone?" asks Harry, while kneeling beside Draco's broken right arm.

"She's too busy in the Hospital Wing to come out here," replies Madam Hooch, to the immediate uproar of Flint and the rest. "This'll require a trip to the Wing indeed, unless he's willing to fly with a splint. No way he can catch the Snitch like that."

"Where's Rickett? YOU BLOODY ARSEHOLE!" yells Flint, eliciting a shrug from the Hufflepuff Beater who retorts with stating that he's done nothing illegal.

A quick spell by Madam Hooch has Draco's right arm bandaged and splinted before he sits up. Harry can only imagine the pain from the tearful expression on Draco's face.

"But mother and father's watching! I need to win this!" he insists, while Madam Hooch recommends that he be returned to the castle.

Flint turns to face the handful of Hufflepuff players standing nearby. "PISS OFF, you lot, and give us some space to strategize!"

A few minutes' worth of huddling together leads to the Slytherin team hearing Harry's idea.

"What? It's the best plan I've got to save Malfoy's pride... again. We gonna do it?" he asks, before Flint sighs.

"Darn, this'll mean that Bletchley's gotta back us up or else it's three-on-two. But you'll have to be quick as hell to fly back to your posts when we're in trouble, Miles," says Flint.

The Keeper nods before replying, "I'm up for it, yeah. Might be a little off on my finishing but I'll give Hufflepuff a third target while Potter goes off."

"Now I'm sure you remember that you absolutely  _cannot_  touch that Snitch, you hear?" asks Flint, to which Harry nods. "And no Plumpton Pass stuff again. Once was risky enough last year but if you do that and it touches skin... we lose."

"Snitchnip, yes I know," says Harry. "Too bad we can't substitute positions around when needed."

After helping Draco to his feet, and onto his broom, Flint calls over Madam Hooch to resume the game.

"This is a silly risk you're taking but fine." She then blows her whistle to resume play as most return to their positions on the field. Bletchley now stays at his hoops while ready to link up with Flint and Warrington when called. Meanwhile, Jordan resumes speaking from the commentary box.

"Malfoy's gonna play with a broken arm? How does he expect to fly and reach out for the Snitch? He's not Potter flying against a rogue Bludger or anything, uh, that's a long story for you foreign and visitor folks. Anyway... wait a minute..."

Harry speeds off beside a determined Draco before speaking. "Alright, I'll do the dirty work against Diggory while you look for an opportunity to snatch it, you hear?"

Draco nods before grasping at his arm. "Hurts like hell I must say, worse than getting scratched by a Hippogriff! Do your thing then, Potter, and we can hopefully end this game."

Their close flight behind Diggory's path has Jordan gasping into the megaphone while the packed crowd look on in surprise.

"I don't believe... LOOK AT THAT! Slytherin's done one hell of a risk by letting Potter free. Watch out, Diggory, he's coming to contest the Snitch even though he can't touch it. Sound familiar?"

Loud boos echo across the Ravenclaw stands before Hufflepuff and Gryffindor join in.

"He did this last year against Cho Chang of Ravenclaw, for all you people who weren't present. What happened then was that Potter swept the Snitch up his sleeve before letting it go free. Bloody lucky that it wasn't touched. But that feat stopped Chang from catching it which led to a restart of the chase where Malfoy won."

A guilty grin crosses Harry's face before he flies right up to Diggory, from the side. Hufflepuff's usually polite Seeker now clearly annoyed at his antics.

"Just leave it, Harry Potter, and let Malfoy fly on his own. Legal or not, this is shoddy behaviour from you now." Diggory turns right to follow the Snitch, which flies a short distance ahead.

Harry follows through on the turn while looking over his shoulder to glance at Diggory. "You folks think you're so special with daddy Amos' new Nimbus 1700's. We beat your team once and we'll do it again, no matter what!"

"Why are you such a jealous person, Potter? Seriously, you're no role model if you keep on acting like this!" says Diggory, as he and Harry fly down the left side of the pitch. Draco now keeping his distance behind them, while Derrick patrols nearby.

"Take your  _daddy's_  broom and shove it up your arse!" Harry brings out his usual array of Seeker talent as he easily keeps up with Diggory behind the Snitch. As frustrating as it may be to simply look at it, Harry tries to create an opening for Draco to swoop in and catch it.

"...GOAL BY MACAVOY! Bletchley just couldn't get back to the posts in time after Flint lost possession. That's FIFTY-FOURTY IN FAVOUR OF HUFFLEPUFF!"

While being held off the Snitch by Harry, Diggory glances at him. "Your Chasers need you out there so go help them."

"I don't take orders from a Hufflepuff!" Harry shoulders against Diggory who retaliates accordingly. Both players now diving downward behind the Snitch as it descends. Then it swiftly rolls to the right and flies upwards, which Diggory and Harry follow, the latter displaying more skill.

"...SAVED by Bletchley who's stayed back that time. But which made Flint and Warrington easy to outpass by the THREE Hufflepuff Chasers out there," says Jordan. "Meanwhile, Potter's still confused about his role today. You're not a Seeker here! What's the use in holding off Diggory... oh, yeah, Malfoy's still out there."

The Snitch now rises higher before flying in a zigzag motion before the Gryffindor stands. Diggory receives a roaring applause while Harry is loudly booed by the crowd. It hardly matters to them that he's displayed superior skills in chasing the Snitch. But a brief glance to the right has Harry seeing Fleur walk across the front row. Her presence silencing many a male who now simply gawks at her.

"... BLETCHLEY goes to take the shot, it's Keeper on Keeper here, folks, oh... narrowly saved by Fleet who swiftly passes to Applebee..."

But minutes later:

"...too slow. IT'S IN FROM PREECE AS HUFFLEPUFF SIT ON SIXTY TO SLYTHERIN'S FOURTY!"

Each Hufflepuff goal makes Harry wince upon hearing it announced, since he's supposed to assist his Chasers. But he remains expertly flying on the turn behind the Snitch as they streak past Herbert Fleet at the goalposts. The Hufflepuff Keeper furiously yelling for Harry to "Bugger off!"

"Diggory just can't seem to be able to get past Potter to the Snitch, how frustrating! Try as he might but Hufflepuff's Seeker's being outmanoeuvred by Potter out there today! Look at that: Snitch turns, Potter immediately copies it before Diggory does the same. He tries to reach out but Potter legally barges him aside. Now they descend..."

Harry dives downward at a tremendous speed to come up a few metres behind the Snitch. So close, but so far as he's unable to touch it.

"...she shoots... GOAL by Macavoy, that's Hufflepuff leading as the score moves to SEVENTY-FOURTY!"

The goals continue to rack up while Harry struggles to find an opportune moment for the injured Draco to speed ahead. Over the next few minutes, both sides launch their respective attacks, giving Jordan much excitement to declare.

"—SAVED by Bletchley!"

"...hits the side of the hoop but is shot again...GOAL by Cassius WARRINGTON! SEVENTY-FIFTY NOW!"

"... that's a good shot by Applebee... HITS THE BOTTOM OF THE GOALPOSTS, UNLUCKY! Bletchley, Warrington, and Flint heading forward again..."

Harry spots the Snitch going on another dive which he follows alongside Diggory. However, he does end up being enough of a distraction for Diggory to not spot the Snitch heading back upwards. Therefore, Harry grins before continuing to dive in pretence pursuit of the Snitch. Remembering the exhaustively repetitive practice he's done, as well as Krum's moves on the omnioculars, Harry pulls up right near the ground.

"...Potter seems to be, hold on, OH!"

Diggory collides with the ground after being unable to pull up in time.

"WRONSKI FEINT! WRONSKI FEINT! WRONSKI FEINT BY HARRY POTTER! Diggory's down, seems relatively okay but he's down!"

While hurriedly ascending, Harry signals for Draco to chase the Snitch as it zips nearby. Indeed, Slytherin's Seeker holds his left arm on the broomstick while catching up to Harry.

"Come on, Diggory, get up! Malfoy's on the Snitch thanks to Potter. There they go, metres from grasping it now...Bludger incoming!"

Harry swiftly looks to his right to see Derrick and Bole being too far away. "They don't pay me enough for this, well, they don't pay me at all," he mutters, before bringing his arms up.

_WHACK!_

"HE'S LOST HIS MARBLES I MUST SAY! POTTER'S PUT HIMSELF BESIDE MALFOY TO TAKE THAT HIT. Seems okay though, but still, that was mental indeed. Oh look at that! Diggory's just gotten to his feet but it's too late. MALFOY'S CAUGHT THE SNITCH! IT'S SLYTHERIN TAKING THE WIN ON 200-70!"

Near-deafening boos echo across the Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Ravenclaw stands now, with the first booing at their loudest yet. Meanwhile, Slytherin and the visitor's stands applaud the rather unconventional victory.

_"HARRY IS OUR KING. HE ALWAYS GETS THE WIN. THAT'S WHY ALL SLYTHERINS SING: HARRY IS OUR KING!"_

The unexpected song has Harry laughing before looking at Draco, who's overjoyed to have caught the Snitch. "Must be one of the girls to have organised that."

"Well there you have it folks, first Quidditch game of our rather condensed schedule this year out the way. Yes, keep singing Slytherin, I guess that was a cunning way to end the match. Hope to have you all back for our next game, this is Lee Jordan from Gryffindor signing out. Now it's on to see the Triwizard draw tonight, YEAH!"

Harry lands upon the ground beside Draco as the rest of the team sweeps them up in celebration.

"Ow! My arm, watch it, Flint!" yelps Draco, as the celebrations continue for well over the next few minutes on the pitch. While many of the other Houses exit the stadium, Slytherin supporters stay behind to voice their approval until Madam Hooch finally clears out the pitch.

Twenty minutes later, after freshening up and changing into casual wear, the team begins leaving the stadium. But they stop to let the injured Draco exit first, since his parents appear to be standing right outside. Mrs. Malfoy now fusses over his splinted arm while Mr. Malfoy congratulates him on a 'fine catch.'

"We should let them take him up to the Hospital Wing, I guess," says Harry, before watching the Malfoys heading up to the castle. Once again, it hurts Harry to see someone else's parents fussing over their son. As Harry and the rest of the team eventually ascend the slopes, they enthusiastically discuss tonight's Goblet of Fire draw.

"I so wish the champ is in Slytherin, come on, Warrington, be ready for the Tournament!" says Derrick.

"Don't put pressure on me, man. Let's wait and see who it is. Guess we ain't doing any partying until tonight."

Flint agrees, before noting that today's an exception as everyone's too caught up with the Tournament to celebrate a Quidditch victory right now. "Double madness in the Common Room if we do end up getting one of ours in!" he says.

"I am in no way cheering anyone else on. Ravenclaw maybe, if they weren't so upset over last year's Quidditch match. Gryffindor? I dunno. Hufflepuff? HELL NO!" says Harry, earning himself much approval from his teammates as they step into the packed entrance hall.

Slytherins of all ages greet them with a near heroes' welcome, to which Flint starts the usual chants. Never mind the dozens of foreign students nearby.

"SLYTHERIN FOR THE CUP, SLYTHERIN FOR THE CUP!" he chants.

"Which Cup?" asks his little sister, who's standing before the cheering crowd.

"Who cares? Quidditch Cup, House Cup... heck... TRIWIZARD CUP TOO! SLYTHERIN FOR THE CUP!" Flint and the rest of the team now march into the Great Hall for a late lunch just after 2pm.

 


	14. The Triwizard Draw

As it's Halloween today, the Great Hall has certainly been decorated for the occasion. Live bats flutter around the enchanted ceiling while hundreds of carved pumpkins hang about the room.

"Oh, well done, Harry!" Millicent leads the way for the girls to congratulate the resilient performance against Hufflepuff. Meanwhile, Marcus Flint raises a rather noisy toast to the 'first of many Quidditch victories this year'. Then Irma Flint can be heard poking fun at her brother.

"But, Marcus, you didn't score at all today."

Ebullient laughter echoes across the Slytherin table as they all point at the red-faced Captain. Though he takes it in stride and simply grins guiltily. Then he sits down to stuff himself with a post-match lunch, while Irma sits with her bunch of friends.

Minutes pass by before some of the Great Hall suddenly goes quiet, and Harry remains engrossed in his meal. Not even Pansy's tapping on his shoulder takes his attention away while shoving a chicken drumstick into his mouth.

"How many times do we have to call you, Harry? Look left!" says Daphne, who's sitting opposite him. Beside her sits a giggling Sally-Anne who speaks.

"He must be really hungry if he's not noticing his mistress standing beside him. Helloooo, Mister Food Boy?"

"Chicken-brains, cluck cluck cluck." Pansy sniggers while speaking to the eating Harry. "You need to leave the food and follow your boss."

A familiar feminine cologne catches his attention before Harry looks up to see Fleur standing at his left. Her expression slightly amused while holding out his scarf.

"It may 'ave smelled of sweat, but it 'as done its job in ze 'orribly cold weather outside. Do you not want it back? Fine, in zat case I shall keep it on and stay nice and warm. 'Arry Potter can freeze 'is, as Alyssa might say... 'bollocks' off."

All five girls suddenly laugh at a blushing Harry, especially from Fleur's deliberate British terminology. But just as Harry tries to take his scarf back, Fleur swipes it away to put around her neck once more.

"Now, I believe zere is something zat needs to be done, leetle green Quidditch teddy bear."

Pansy cannot help herself from leaning over the table and banging her fist while laughing. "Little what? Oh my God, that's priceless. I'm SO gonna remember that one forever and ever and ever and ever."

"Man, this is embarrassing"—Harry's swiftly pulled to his feet by Fleur—"oh that's right! Your name."

"'Ow can you be so forgetful at times?" Fleur shakes her head before grabbing him by the front of his robes, and almost dragging him out the Great Hall. "It seems zere are more admirers coming to watch me."

As Fleur exits the Great Hall to approach the Goblet of Fire, Harry turns around to see over a dozen boys. They stand eager to get a view of Fleur while many students now crowd the entrance hall. Harry briefly spots a few familiar faces such as Hermione and Ginny amidst the gathering crowd, but his eyes are locked onto the boys.

"I will be entering now, 'Arry, keep zem away. You boys are all so silly."

While Fleur essentially struts towards the Goblet, her fellow students applaud their possible Champion. Some of the Hogwarts crowd also clap, though mainly the boys. Each one trying to approach Fleur ends up with a scowling Harry blocking their way. His hand gripped around the wand in his pocket.

"Move, Potter, I gotta get closer to her!" says Ron, while Seamus and Dean also try their luck.

"Oh man, they don't have 'em like her here at Hogwarts. Look at that girl, I'd do anything for her..." says Roger Malone, who's joined his a fellow roommates in admiring Fleur.

"Come on, Potter, step aside and let us talk to her. What's her name?" asks Dean.

"How'd you get her to wear your scarf? Can't she wear my scarf?" asks Michael Corner of Ravenclaw. More boys soon shove each other aside to stand in the entrance hall as Fleur drops her name into the Goblet.

"All done! Poof! It is in and I shall be ze champion"—Fleur turns to look at the mass of students eyeing her—"You can cheer for your 'Ogwarts champion but Beauxbatons is ze best, yes? Zis castle is nowhere near as magnificent as ze Palace we 'ave come from."

While the boys listen almost dreamily at every word of hers, the girls scowl and clearly express their disapproval. Even worse for them is how easily Fleur's walked in and seemingly 'wrapped Harry Potter around her finger', as the girls gossip among each other.

"Oh my, zese boys are blocking our way, 'Arry. Do get rid of zem befo— what is zis?"

Everyone's attention now focuses on Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, as the trio declare their aging potion tactic for all to see. Cheers and applause now come from their supporters as they approach the age line.

Meanwhile, Fleur stands beside Harry right before the entrance to the Great Hall. Its double doors closed in order to keep the chilly breeze out. Now Fred jumps into the line before earning much approval from the crowd. Then comes George as both twins stand at the Goblet.

Moments later, however, they are flung backwards before sitting up with newly grown, white beards. The entrance hall rings with laughter as Dumbledore exits the Great Hall to calmly poke fun at the twins. Then he seemingly heads towards the grand staircase while Fred and George stand up to leave for the Hospital Wing. Lee Jordan now howling with laughter behind them.

"Blimey, that was brilliant!" laughs Ron, to which all but Fleur happens to agree.

"A most stupid trick! Did zose idiots really 'ope to fool zeir 'eadmaster's own Age Line? Too much time on zeir 'ands to zink up such stupidity."

None of the boys find themselves capable of arguing against her, not even Ron shows the will to defend his brothers. Harry inwardly agrees with Fleur but simply stands unfazed by her insults. Then he spots Ginny and Hermione looking at him incredulously, as if hoping for a feisty response from him. But nothing comes as Harry glances fondly at the smug Fleur.

"You, uh, wanna head inside again? I'm still kinda hungry."

She laughs mockingly at him before replying, "I suppose ze star of ze Slytherin 'ouse needs 'is meals. You will be Captain one day, yes?"

Harry nods his head while feeling a sense of optimism and determination. "Oh you bet I will."

A few boys nearby try and claim that they'll be Captain of their House teams as well, to which Harry laughs. "Nice try, losers, but I'm better and richer than you." He stands looking rather proud of himself, regardless of the persistent looks of disbelief from many a girl.

"Is he actually that arrogant?" asks a lower year Hufflepuff, eliciting murmurs of confusion among the group.

"That girl's gotta be related to a veela if she's got all the boys drooling over her, even Harry Potter," says another girl in the crowd.

Meanwhile, Fleur haughtily puts her nose in the air before scoffing. "I 'ope ze 'Ogwarts champion is ze right one. Because it looks like you all need somebody to cheer for, shame. Unfortunately for you people, our teaching and classes are evidently superior to zis rubbish castle. Even ze 'alloween décor looks terrible—"

"Would you quit acting so high and mighty? Enough insults towards our castle," scolds a fifth year Ravenclaw girl.

"—but at least zere is something okay 'ere." Fleur flicks a lengthy bit of silvery blonde hair over her shoulder towards a wide-eyed Harry. "Now I 'ave 'eard enough from zese girls, let us go inside and sit, 'Arry Potter."

"Yeah, sure, let us go sit indeed." He hurries after Fleur as they once again enter the Great Hall. But this time she smiles mischievously towards her onlookers before heading for the Slytherin table. Now many a boy excitedly speaks:

"—she's coming this way!"

"Make space, make space!"

"No, oh darn she's with Harry Potter."

Meanwhile, Pansy ushers her side of the table to free up two spaces beside her. With a wave of her hand she calls Harry and Fleur over, though having the latter sit beside her. Once at the table, Fleur looks around at some of the other Houses glancing her way.

"Zey certainly do not like me 'ere."

Pansy snorts before replying, "Well, veela-girl, there's plenty of reasons to be jealous of you. Took me a while to make friends with Harry, and yet you just show up and take him."

"You are jealous? 'e is very famous after all zis one," says Fleur, who's sitting with her elbows on the table, and chin propped up in her hands. After finishing half her plate of food, she sighs. "It is all too 'eavy, zis 'Ogwarts food."

Sitting opposite Fleur is Daphne, who laughs. "Oh yeah? Well, look left and see how much Harry's enjoying this 'heavy' food." Tracey, Millicent, Sally-Anne and Pansy all watch in amusement as Fleur turns to look at Harry, while still resting her cheek on her hand.

"You eat like a leetle baby sometimes, 'Arry. _Merde_ , but your cheeks 'ave bits of sauce on zem!"

He nearly freezes in place while holding a forkful of food, then gives a tight-lipped smile.

"Oh go easy on him. He's not always this bad, but maybe our Harry's so distracted by the Miss veela who's graced us with her presence." Pansy sniggers while Fleur slightly scowls.

"Oh very funny. You are lucky zat you are Alyssa's cousin or else I would 'ave taken much offense from such jokes." Then she whips out her wand before nonverbally casting a spell at Harry, vanishing the bits of food around his mouth. "Does 'Ogwarts not teach 'Arry proper table manners?"

"We've tried to train him, with some success," says Sally-Anne. "Are you going to finish your meal?"

Fleur shakes her head before Harry immediately looks in her direction, bringing an amused look to Tracey's face.

"Look at him staring longingly. I think he'd like to finish it for you."

"Oh? You are wanting my food? Very well zen, zese is too filling I must say. I 'ave a very good figure which I would like to maintain, zank you." Fleur nudges her plate with the back of her hand towards a grinning Harry.

"Don't say it, Fleur, I know you're going to say it." Pansy looks at her and groans upon hearing what she'd expected.

"Like a leetle doggie eating from its mistress's plate. Very much funny it is."

While savouring the delights of the plate, Harry beams with pride. "This has gotta be the best tasting Halloween lunch I've ever had!  _Merde!"_

"Only because Miss veela's spit is still on some of tha—" Pansy's statement is cut short by a sudden bit of laughter from Fleur.

"Oh no what 'ave I done? 'e is trying to speak ze French language now. I 'ave truly affected ze 'Arry Potter. Oh nooooo." Then she presses her palms to her cheeks and feigns shock in a surprisingly playful manner.

"I guess even the most condescendingly uptight people can be childish at times," whispers Tracey to Sally-Anne, who nods.

"What did she say? I 'ave a feeling zat girl whispered about me. She is not very funny. Perhaps I will 'ave one last piece..."

"Wha—? Hey!" Harry groans as Fleur swipes a sausage from the plate to nibble on. Minutes later, the Durmstrang students exit the Great Hall before a Beauxbaton boy approaches Fleur.

"Madame Maxime suggests zat we all get some rest before ze draw tonight. Would you like me to walk wiz you to ze carriage?"

"Oh yes, please do!" responds Harry, in a mockingly feminine way that has Fleur stifling a sudden laugh.

"I was not talking to you, stupid Potter! I was talking to Fleur over 'ere!" snaps the boy.

"Stupid?" Harry stands up from his seat to look the taller boy in the eye. "I don't care if you're years older than me, I've seen things you can only dream of."

"Fleur, zis boy lacks proper manners. Please do not associate yourself wiz 'im." Then the boy angrily goes on to speak something in French to her.

"Get lost, pal!" retorts Harry, not understanding a word before Fleur laughs.

"Oh, it is very much getting 'ot in 'ere now I must say. Is it true zat you are only my friend in order to make love with me? Zat is what zis boy 'as told me, 'Arry. 'e says you are just trying to get me without ze clothes. 'e says a scoundrel like you might even be forceful about it..."

Fleur's amused expression shows that she might not believe the gossip, but still decides to have a bit of fun with it. The handful of Slytherin girls nearby shriek with laughter loud enough to turn more than a few heads.

"I... what? No!" But before Harry can add on, the Beauxbaton boy swears at him, then turns around to exit the Great Hall. "Very charming I must say."

"They really don't like you hanging out with Fleur," says Pansy.

"Look at the leetle Parkinson stating ze obvious."

"Oh be quiet, veela-girl."

"Maybe you should go back, Fleur. Don't let me cause tensions and anger with your classmates," says Harry, after sitting down.

"Tensions and anger? No, zis is just fun. Now what to do until zis evening?"

Harry checks his watch to see that it's past 4pm now, with just under two hours to go before the draw. Then he decides to stand up, stretch out, and offer his hand. "We can go for a walk outside, or around the castle, if you'd like?"

Fleur lightly slaps his hand away before standing up. "We can all walk together. Zere is no need to try and be so formal, it does not suit zis ugly castle."

Despite being unwilling to damage his friendship with Fleur, Harry responds firmly. "This place is good enough for me."

She looks at him for a moment before giving a smirk. "Zen you evidently 'ave not seen our magnificent Palace of Beauxbatons."

"This 'ugly castle' means more to me than even someone like you could imagine, Fleur." Harry seems to briefly lose some of his enamour towards her, before she scoffs and swishes her hair.

"We are each entitled to our own opinions zen, 'Arry. But it is a shame for someone like you to not 'ave attended Beauxbatons. Let us walk together now."

"And what does 'someone like you' mean, hmm?" Pansy and the rest of the girls now join Harry and Fleur as they walk down the aisle.

"I am not in ze mood to pass by all zose ugly armour in ze 'allways." Fleur leads Harry to rather sit beside her on a bench in the chilly entrance courtyard. "Do something about zis cold."

While Harry draws his wand, the other five girls button up their robes before sitting nearby. He then spends the next half an hour sitting on the bench with Fleur deciding to make herself comfortable.

"How is this fair?" he asks, as she shoos him off before laying across the bench.

"Oh be quiet and cast zat spell again." Fleur appears smug as Harry is made to cast his hot-air charm for yet another few minutes over her. "Zat is a good boy who listens."

Sniggers of laughter come from behind Harry as he once again finds himself teased relentlessly by his friends. Daphne, Tracey, and Millicent lead the way in likening him to a 'house elf serving his mistress' now.

"Don't think I'm just gonna roll over and be your servant. On no, I'll do it on my terms." Harry grins wickedly before lifting the bottom of Fleur's top and firing a gentle bit of hot air beneath. She gasps as it warms her up to the neck.

"Naughty leetle boy! But zat is a bit relaxing I must say."

"Can I at least get some of the bench to sit on?" he asks hopefully.

"No, it is mine now, 'Arry." She closes her eyes and decides upon taking a nap until past five as sunset nears. Sitting up on the bench beneath the darkening skies, Fleur smiles. "Zat looks nice, even though zis ugly castle is in ze way of seeing ze sunset."

"Well, let's go inside this 'ugly' castle and take our seats to watch the draw," says Harry, who leads the way back to the Great Hall. He then looks right to see most having been seated already, with Beauxbatons at the Ravenclaw table as usual. "See you later?"

Fleur shakes her head. "I will be seeing zem everyday all year anyway. Might as well sit next to my leetle servant again."

"Very funny." Harry now takes a seat between Pansy and Fleur at the end of the Slytherin table. "Not-so-fun fact: tonight marks exactly thirteen years since I became famous."

Fleur doesn't respond to the statement, although the rest of the girls hurriedly change topic now. With the draw about to take place, everyone keenly looks at the Goblet of Fire now positioned before Dumbledore's place at the staff table.

"But first, let us feast!" declares Dumbledore happily, as golden plates and dishes fill up with all sorts of food. The feast seemingly takes forever due to the growing anticipation of who's going to be selected as champions tonight.

While everyone forces themselves to eat something, Harry looks left at Fleur. "You've barely eaten anything. Here, have at least a few biscuits." But as soon as he places them in her plate, Fleur pours them back into his.

"I am not 'ungry at ze moment."

At long last, the feast concludes as the golden plates return to their clean state. Now the Great Hall seems abuzz with enthusiastic discussions which are silenced as Dumbledore gets to his feet. Sitting beside him are Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff, both now as tense as anyone else. Nearby, Mr. Crouch appears vaguely interested, although stressed as usual, while Ludo Bagman winks and waves at many a student.

Dumbledore soon announces that the Goblet might need another minute to finalize its decisions. Then he instructs whoever is selected as Champion to come to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and enter the next chamber behind. Here they would be receiving their first instructions. Now the tension is almost palpable in the air, and the silence practically deafening. With a great sweeping wave, Dumbledore extinguishes all candles except those in the carved pumpkins. The Great Hall now plunged into partial darkness, which only serves to emphasize the brightly shining Goblet of Fire.

"This is it! Oh man, I'm too excited, so excited!" Pansy grabs onto a startled Harry's thigh while Daphne seems to be shaking her feet beneath the table. Sally-Anne and Tracey nervously bite on their nails while Millicent tries to act calm. Then the Goblet's flames turn a bright red before shooting upwards, sending a charred piece of parchment fluttering into the air which is caught by Dumbledore. The mass of people in the Great Hall now gasping in awe. With the Fire now its usual bright blue-white, Dumbledore holds the parchment in its light to read.

"The Champion for Durmstrang will be... Viktor Krum!"

A thunderous applause echoes throughout the Great Hall with many declaring that it's no surprise at all. Harry looks to his right and sees the table going wild with both Slytherin and Durmstrang applause. To his far left, at the staff table, Karkaroff loudly applauds Krum as the first Champion makes his way as directed by Dumbledore earlier.

"So 'e is my first competitor..." mutters Fleur, which elicits a laughing reaction from Harry.

"You still seem pretty confident in yourself being selected, eh?"

"I will be selected!" she responds, in a childishly feisty manner. "Or I 'ope to be selected..." Her expression now turns to slight worry, which Harry finds quite adorable.

"There there, no need to be stressed out." He teasingly pats Fleur on the shoulder as she now fidgets with her hands on the table. Then the Goblet turns red again before ejecting its second piece of parchment which is caught by Dumbledore.

"The Beauxbatons Champion will be... Fleur Delacour!"

Harry stands up first to applaud as wildly as he can, just before the rest of the Hall gives their round of applause. Fleur, in particular, appears so excited that she grabs a grinning Harry into a brief—though tight—hug before making her way up the aisle. The Slytherin scarf of his still snugly wrapped around her neck, eliciting amused looks from the staff table.

"Oh my God just look at them take their rejection so badly," says Daphne, as all Beauxbatons girls but Alyssa break down into sobs and tears. "Your cousin doesn't seem very much bothered though, Pansy."

"Well that's because she didn't care to enter. Alyssa's just here for a field trip, sort of. But she's always been a slight bit lazier than the rest of her class," replies Pansy, while seeing her beaming cousin still honestly clapping for Fleur.

"Here it comes, the moment of truth..." says Harry, whose sentiment is shared by every Hogwarts student now. The crowd once again absolutely silent after Fleur has entered into the chamber behind the staff table. Now the Goblet flames turn red before ejecting its third piece of parchment for tonight.

"And finally, the Hogwarts Champion will be..." Dumbledore smiles quite happily before turning to look in a certain direction, eliciting loud gasps from that table. "Angelina Johnson!"

"NO!" yells many a Slytherin, none more so than Marcus Flint, before the rest of the students applaud at their loudest tonight. The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables stand up to congratulate the Gryffindor Chaser, who smiles quite embarrassingly. Her table absolutely roaring with approval from each and every student patting her on the arm as she walks past, en route to the staff table. Dumbledore and McGonagall lead the tremendous amount of applause while Snape seems forced to clap. His bitter expression now speaks volumes at having a Gryffindor take such a glorious moment tonight.

But even after Angelina's disappeared into the chamber, the applause still carries on. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws now slowly begin to sit down, all in smiles, while the Gryffindors seemingly don't let up. Harry spots everyone, even Ginny and Hermione, wildly cheering in approval. Chants of "ANGELINA!" now being sung throughout the table.

Meanwhile, to Harry's right, voices can be heard as many a Slytherin tries to express their condolences at Cassius Warrington. Though he hardly seems bothered by it now before replying, "Ah well, we might as well cheer for Viktor Krum or even the French girl."

"Anyone but that Gryffindor Chaser! How many times have I lost the Quaffle to her? No way!" declares Marcus Flint angrily, while his sister voices her disappointment as well.

"Um, Harry, I take it we're either cheering for Krum or Fleur?" asks Tracey, who's seated to his front right.

"I don't like Krum, so I'm gonna be cheering for Fleur to take the win!" he declares defiantly, even against popular opinion.

Pansy sniggers with laughter. "Oh look, he's so smitten with love for his part-veela friend!"

"You two can get all kissy-kissy if she does well in ze tournament, eh, Monsieur Potter?" asks Daphne teasingly, much to Sally-Anne's amusement. "Might even get all steamy-steamy too."

"Oh what's wrong? Don't you like Johnson?" asks Millicent, before Harry replies.

"She's quite pretty but she's a Gryffindor! I can't cheer for a Gryffindor in this tournament, even if I have a few pals in that House."

Before the girls can respond, Dumbledore silences the room before asking many a student to show full support for their Champion. "By cheering them on, you will contribute in a very real and meaningful way. Sometimes in life we require the support of others, unity brings about the best of us at times. So I urge each of you to set aside any differences and cheer on your Champion. Feel free to show support to any of them. For the Hogwarts students, House shouldn't matte—"

Dumbledore stops his speech, and now everyone else can see exactly why. All eyes staring in disbelief as the Goblet's flames turn red again before ejecting another piece of parchment. Dumbledore's eyes widen upon reading it, and then he looks around the bewildered room. A few confused whispers can be heard elsewhere while Harry carries on whispering to a giggling Pansy.

"...and so I told Dudley one day that he's so fat that he needs to run up and down the staircase at home. You should've seen the look on his face and—"

" _Harry Potter_."

"—he wanted to beat me up but I showed him my wand and—"

"Harry Potter..."

Pansy gasps before furiously tapping a confused Harry on the shoulder. With a gesture of her head she brings his attention to the look of utter shock across the Great Hall, including the girls too, as Dumbledore reads the parchment for the third time:

"Harry Potter!"

"Why's he calling me?" asks Harry, through the stunned silence as he'd been too busy cracking jokes with Pansy to have noticed the Goblet.

"Your name!" she whispers rather loudly. "How? It's on that parchment!" Pansy now ushers him from his seat as the rest of the students remain staring at him. Indeed, Harry turns to look at Dumbledore holding out the parchment. Then Snape appears to be in urgent whispers with McGonagall seated beside him. Both Professors speaking in rather confused, if not upset, manners.

"HARRY POTTER, YOU SLY DOG!" yells Marcus Flint, before standing up and laughing at the Gryffindor table. Then many more Slytherins stand up and howl with laughter and applause. But Harry spots a few nasty looks being shot at him from even some of his own Housemates. These include the rest of his roommates, particularly Nott, while the bandaged Draco adopts a look of almost betrayal.

"SILENCE!" snaps Snape, which immediately quietens the table as they sit down once more. The excited whispers and sniggers would've made Harry laugh, had he not found himself in this situation. He now slowly walks up the aisle, passing by the Hufflepuffs on his left and Gryffindors to his right. Both tables shooting awful insults towards him while the Gryffindors in Harry's year appear utterly shocked.

His heart skips a beat as Snape strides over to grab him by the front of his robes. But a look from Dumbledore has the Slytherin Head swiftly letting go, as everyone's eyes are on them.

"I didn't put my name in," says Harry rather softly, while every staff member appears to be staring at him now. His statement going rather unheard in the tense Great Hall.

"Harry, if you would please... through this door," says an unsmiling Dumbledore, while gesturing towards the chamber containing the other Champions.

With Snape and all other eyes on him, Harry nervously walks past Dumbledore towards the door behind the staff table. And then the Goblet of Fire glows red yet again before shooting out another piece of parchment.

"Now what in hell is going on? Another one?" Harry gawks open-mouthed as Dumbledore hurries to snatch the fifth parchment for tonight. Meanwhile, Professor Moody approaches Harry as he stands at the door.

"You'd better come to my office tomorrow after lunch, Potter. Something's definitely not right with this Tournament."

A wide-eyed Harry nods before seeing Dumbledore read out yet another name.

" _Alyssa Parkinson_."


	15. Dissension

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?" Pansy's cousin finds herself receiving looks of betrayal from her peers, and bewilderment from the rest of the Great Hall. She hurriedly walks up the aisle, past Dumbledore, and then towards Harry as they step through the door together.

"Did you put your name in?" he asks.

"No! And besides, Fleur's already been chosen for us. This makes bugger all sense. Did you put yours in?"

"How the hell could I have done that? I'm far from being of age! Plus, I had Quidditch all morning and you saw me hanging around. What the flip's happening around here? Why's it always me?"

They nervously step into a smaller room, adorned with paintings of witches and wizards. A comfortable fire burns in the fireplace opposite them as Harry and Alyssa find themselves being stared at by many a portrait. Standing grouped around the fire, Fleur, Krum, and Angelina appear rather imposing against its light. The first now throwing back her sheet of silvery blonde hair before turning around.

"Oh, 'Arry? What is it? Do zey maybe want us back in ze Hall? Alyssa? What is going on?"

"I... Fleur I don't know how to explain this," replies Alyssa, before scurrying sounds are heard from the door. It flies open as Ludo Bagman enters the room to grab Harry and Alyssa by the arm.

"This is most amazingly extraordinary! Ladies and gent, may I introduce the  _fourth_ and  _fifth_  Triwizard Champions! Isn't this just the craziest thing ever?"

But his enthusiasm is not shared by the others, who appear unimpressed.

"What a vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman." The tone of Fleur's voice shows little amusement to what the three original Champions view as a poor sense of humour.

"Joke? Oh no, I can assure you that Harry and Alyssa's names just came out of the Goblet of Fire!" replies Bagman.

"But we didn't put them in, Goddamnit!" argues Alyssa, to which Bagman replies with a wink.

"Oh, sure, of course you didn't."

Krum and Angelina's faces immediately become suspicious as they frown in anger. Both now looking from Alyssa to Harry with their brows furrowed.

"Alyssa? But 'ow? You said you were not going to enter!" Fleur snaps at her with a look of utter betrayal. "You said you were 'ere for your cousin!"

"I am! How and when could I have put my name in? Weren't you watching me like a hawk all morning? Then I went back to take a nap in the carriages!"

"You lie! Zere could 'ave been time last night after ze meal! You cheater! I am supposed to be ze Champion of Beauxbatons!"

Alyssa scoffs before replying, "Haven't you heard what those boys said? Everyone except you and I hadn't put our names in. And that was this morning!"

"I did not see you very much after ze Quidditch game, Alyssa..."

"I was at the Ravenclaw table for lunch then went with the rest to the carriages! How do I know you hadn't put my name in then?" asks Alyssa.

"'Ow dare you!" Fleur now angrily argues in French to which Alyssa retaliates equally as well. Although Harry has no idea what is being said, it's clear that they're having a heated exchange.

"Can both of you please be quiet? What about Harry Potter over here? He's a cheater as well!" says Angelina, to which Krum nods in agreement.

Fleur now halts her argument before turning to glance at Harry. "Zat is impossible."

"Oh yeah?" Angelina eyes Fleur rather suspiciously. "You seem rather quick to defend him. Actually, you and Potter have been surprisingly friendly since you Beauxbatons came..."

"What the heck are you implying here, Johnson? Blaming her for my name coming out?" asks Harry.

"'Arry Potter was with me ze whole time since zis morning. Zere is no way 'e could 'ave broken through ze Age Line."

"And why's that, hmm?" asks Angelina before Fleur groans in exasperation.

"Because even your stupid pair of twin friends could not do it with zair 'Aging Potion' zing! And zey are older zan 'Arry which means zey are more experienced."

Krum speaks to Bagman, while Angelina continues to argue with Fleur. "Don't insult Fred and George! This has nothing to do with them as opposed to your cheating friends over here."

"And you will  _not_  insult 'Arry."

"Fleur, I promise that I didn't put my name in," he says, to which Alyssa also declares her innocence. Eventually, the door opens as Dumbledore, Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, McGonagall, Snape, and Mr. Crouch soon enter.

"Alyssa, what is ze meaning of zis? 'Ow did you put your name into ze Goblet?" asks Maxime, more curious than outright upset.

"I didn't, ma'am. Truly, I did not put my name in the Goblet," responds Alyssa, who seems to be under close scrutiny from the tall Maxime. Then the headmistress turns to look confusedly at Harry, who reckons that she might've been more upset had he been the only extra Champion.

"None of zis makes any sense, Dumbly-dorr?"

Karkaroff storms ahead, standing before Madame Maxime and Professor Dumbledore. "This is very convenient for you all, yes? If I had known there would be two contestants for each of you I'd have brought along more candidates of my own."

His steely smile remains in place but Harry sees the look of sheer anger towards this predicament.

"How is this fair on us? On Viktor? On me?" asks Karkaroff, whose voice is all but a shout now. "This is a most unjust predicament for me now. I demand to know how exactly Beauxbatons and Hogwarts just happen to have twice the chances compared to Durmstrang!"

While walking towards the centre of the room, Dumbledore speaks. "Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" he asks calmly.

"No, sir—" Harry's words are cut off as Snape runs across the room before shoving him against a wall.

"POTTER! DID YOU PUT YOUR NAME IN THE GOBLET OF FIRE?!" he asks not-so-calmly.

"No, sir!"

"And what about this girl too?" Karkaroff turns to glare at Alyssa. "She's of age, so perhaps she's cheated through the Age Line. Or perhaps she's conspired very conveniently with Harry Potter..."

"That's a lie!" protests Alyssa, before Madame Maxime places a hand on her shoulder.

"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made some mistake wiz ze Age Line," she says with a shrug.

"Oh of course you are all so calm. You don't have to worry about having ONE Champion in this Tournament! An outrage if I ever saw one!" shouts Karkaroff. "I demand answers."

"Don't we all?" Dumbledore requests that Snape step back to give Harry space. Then he turns to ask the opinion of the Triwizard Tournament's organizers. Bagman appears more excited than anything, while Mr. Crouch stands half-hidden in the shadow of the firelight. His expression partially thoughtful, yet mostly grim. Both declare that the rules are absolute and that these five competitors are all bound to compete.

"I insist on resubmitting the names of the rest of my students until Durmstrang has its second Champion too. Where is the justice here now? One more competitor will make this all fair," argues Karkaroff. But he's swiftly told that the Goblet of Fire does not work that way, and that it has just gone out until the start of the next Tournament. "Unbelievable! I will therefore take my students and leave. Better no Durmstrang than one against four! ONE AGAINST FOUR!"

"Empty threat I'm afraid." Moody now enters the room before putting himself between Harry and the upset Karkaroff. "It is rather convenient that these five are all magically bound to compete. You cannot leave your Champion now."

"Yes, very convenient indeed," replies Karkaroff with a bitter tone of sarcasm in his voice. "How convenient for you all here."

"If you would stop throwing tantrums like an infant you'd realize that someone's clearly placed Potter's name into the Goblet of Fire," growls Moody.

"And mine too!" says Alyssa, who turns to look at Harry. "My cousin's spoken highly of you, but to compete in such a Tournament at your age is suicide!"

"Maybe someone's hoping that Potter does die in this Tournament, probably not suicide though." Moody glances around the room before continuing. "I have reasons for believi—"

"What reasons? How very odd of you to have been appointed as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher here, Mad-Eye. Teaching your children to probably be on alert for assassination at any moment. You don't go a day without thinking up half a dozen plots against you!" Karkaroff glares at Moody.

"Let's hear your opinion, Alastor," says Dumbledore, before Moody nods.

"Only an extremely powerful Confundus Charm or something could have possibly hoodwinked such a powerful object. The Goblet of Fire constitutes magic far beyond the means of a mere 14 year old to penetrate. Even the Parkinson girl here couldn't have broken through the Goblet and your enchantments, Dumbledore."

"You seemed to have given this a great bit of thought, Mad-Eye," says Karkaroff gravely. "Coming from the man who smashed up his birthday presents believing them to be objects of assassination. So do understand if we don't take you seriously—"

"There are folks out there who would turn even an innocent Tournament to their advantage. It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff, as you ought to remember..."

"Alastor! That's quite enough," says Dumbledore sternly, before Moody backs off with a satisfied look on his face. While Dumbledore states that there is no choice but to let the Tournament carry on as is, Harry whispers to Fleur standing beside him.

"Hey, thanks, but why'd you cover up for me? Aren't you upset that I've been smuggled into this competition?"

"You may be my favourite idiot, but zere is no way zat you could 'ave entered your name. As for Alyssa though..." Fleur shoots a scowl towards the sighing Parkinson.

"I'd bet 1000 Galleons of my own that she never entered her name. We're both stuck in this Tournament now."

"Zat is a big amount for a leetle man. But you will understand if I, of course, do not accept zat bet?"

"Because you know deep down that Alyssa's innocent, am I right?"

"Right now I feel like ze idiot 'ere. 'Ow could any of zis 'appen right under our noses? Who could 'ave entaired your names?"

The question brings a smile to Harry's face before he speaks, "So you do believe she's not at fault. Come on, Fleur, she's your friend, right? There's no need to hate and bully her now when she needs you."

Fleur scoffs before replying. "I will not 'ate and bully 'er, but I will also not speak to 'er. I will be ze winner of zis Tournament, so by ze Final Task you will do what is right, 'Arry?"

"Right now, I'm not even thinking about any of that. All I want to know is how and why I'm even competing."

"Well I do not know what is to come, but do try not to die. It will be a big waste of a leetle green star."

"Try not to die? Wow, thanks, that's so very encouraging to hear."

As Madame Maxime rather calmly provides her input to these events, Alyssa walks towards Harry and Fleur. The latter now folding her arms and looking away indignantly.

"I guess there's no getting through to her, huh? Well, I'm sorry about all this anyway." Alyssa's words elicit little reaction from the frowning Fleur. "I don't want to be in this competition, you know. But we don't have a choice. Bloody hell this must really suck for you, Harry. Fourteen years old and forced to compete against whatever's in this Tournament."

"Fleur, just try and forgive Alyssa. Even if it's not her fault for being here." Harry's request seems to be ignored by her.

"Well at least little P now has twice the reason to cheer. For twice the amount of  _cheaters_ ," says Alyssa, while giving a slight laugh.

Minutes later, the five Champions are gathered around in a circle before Mr. Crouch instructs them on the First Task, scheduled for November the 24th. He explains no more than merely stating that it will test their courage and daring nature. Both of which are stated to be of great importance in a wizard.

"But I am a witch," replies Fleur, to which Harry whispers that it's occasionally used as a unisex term. She then notes that it was merely a joke.

Then it's announced that the Champions are not permitted to ask for, or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks of the Tournament. They are due to receive instructions on the second task after the first, while also being exempt from end of year examinations. Formalities aside, Dumbledore offers to accommodate the guests for the night but Mr. Crouch declines, though Bagman happily agrees to stay.

"Professor Karkaroff? Madame Maxime? A nightcap?" asks Dumbledore.

"Goodnight all!" declares Karkaroff in a most scornful manner as he leads Viktor Krum out.

"I suppose it will not 'urt to 'ave just a few drinks. Zese Tournament is truly a strange one indeed," says Maxime, who takes up Dumbledore's offer.

"Harry, Angelina, perhaps you would like to go to bed? No doubt your Houses would like to celebrate the occasion with you? Enjoying the spirit of the good old rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin, I presume?"

"I wouldn't say 'enjoying', sir," replies Angelina politely. Then, once Dumbledore and the rest of the staff have left, this leaves just four Champions standing in the small room. By the sound of things, it seems the Great Hall is now deserted as Dumbledore leads the way back to his office for their drinks. Angelina stands with hands on her hips, now shaking her head while looking down at Harry. "I can't believe you, man. Every single year it has been Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin. Slytherin this, Slytherin that."

She sighs before continuing:

"Slytherin wins the House Cup by a mile because Harry Potter got his Gryffindor pals to sort out some school mystery regarding Quirrell. Slytherin wins again as Harry Potter stops whatever evil has been unleashed by his own bloody House! Slytherin wins yet again because Harry Potter, and some Gryffindors, manage to exonerate Sirius Black—"

"Hey, come on, we won the Quidditch Cup too in my first and third years. That counts for a lot you know."

"Slytherin makes history with probably the youngest Seeker ever at Hogwarts. Then he gets a Nimbus 2000 from somewhere. Oh but that's not enough, is it? He later goes to make a name for himself as Chaser too. Nimbus 2001's bought by the Malfoys? No, Harry Potter of Slytherin must go and up everyone with his posh Firebolt. Oh guess what? He adds Slytherin colours to it because he's just so darn arrogant. And to think we thought you were such a nice person last year when Oliver left."

"I zink you are being very rude towards 'Arry. It is bad enough zat 'e is forced to compete against us older students," argues Fleur, and Harry can't help but feel a warmth in his chest from being defended.

"Well maybe, Miss Johnson, Slytherin House is just so much better than you Gryffindors," says a smirking Alyssa, whose comment seems to have hit the spot indeed. Angelina's expression now all but furious.

" _Parkinson_... are you related to..."

"Pansy? Yes, she's my cousin indeed. Why don't you run along, brave lion?" mocks Alyssa, and Harry can practically see the 'Pansy-ness' emanating from her now. "Go shoo,  _peasant."_

Even Fleur ends up laughing at the remark, though she swiftly stops smiling upon making eye contact with Alyssa.

"And even now, Mister Thinks-He's-Perfect Harry Potter gets the two French Champions on his side. Alright then, fine. But if I were you I'd avoid the Gryffindor-Slytherin match when it comes..."

"Is that a threat?" asks Harry, as Angelina exits to head back to her common room upstairs. "Did that girl just threaten me now?"

"Do not worry. I will not want to lose my leetle idiot in this Tournament," says Fleur amusingly. "But you must tell me what she 'as mentioned about all zose past years. Slytherin what and what now?"

"It's a long bunch of stories."

"But I want to 'ear zem." Fleur grabs Harry by his clothing and essentially drags him out into the empty, dimly lit Great Hall. Then she places him to sit at their usual spots before Alyssa joins them. "Now do tell all zose stories before our bedtime."

"I've already heard all this," declares Alyssa happily, though Harry smiles as he hasn't completely told the truth to Pansy before. Very few students, namely Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, know about Tom Marvolo Riddle and the complete nature of past school events. But Harry nonetheless spends nearly half an hour describing what he feels like mentioning from his years at school thus far. A topic that has Fleur looking slightly impressed.

"We 'ave 'ad none of zat in France. Zis school is crazy! No wonder you are evidently a mad idiot," she responds amusingly.

"Thank you, I suppose." Harry now yawns so widely that Alyssa closes his mouth, much like Pansy would do.

"We should all get some sleep now. What a mental day this has been. Fleur, you coming?"

"Did you 'ear something, 'Arry? Oh, I zink I should be going back to ze carriage now."

"How very childish of you. Okay, fine, but you are looking fatter by the day, must be the Hogwarts food..."

Fleur swiftly looks at Alyssa before retorting. "I am not overweight, my feegure is absolutely perfect now!" She now looks at the amused Harry. " Tell Alyssa zat my feegure is good . Why are you laughing?"

"Because she got you good, with one of the oldest tricks ever. Poke fun, then you end up speaking to her after all. What was that you said earlier?"

"Come on, Fleur, don't be mad at me for something I haven't done." Alyssa smiles mischievously. "You did just speak to me now, no going back."

After a few swear words in French, Fleur finally sighs. "Fine zen, maybe it is not your fault after all. Or maybe you are just a very good liar. Oh no, I almost forgot zat you are one of ze laziest girls in ze class. Would be far too much work to try and cheat yourself into such a difficult Tournament."

Harry can't help but grin at what he sees as being Fleur's reasoning. "So you ladies still friends?"

"It will take a while to trust zis one again." Fleur narrows her eyes at the shrugging Alyssa.

"Pfft, whatever. Now we really ought to get some shut eye for the night." The two girls now head out the castle towards their carriage. Harry, meanwhile, goes towards the dungeons but is stopped by Peeves in the entrance hall.

"Potter the rotter who stinks and cheats—"

"Let me just go fetch the Bloody Baron quickly..." Harry laughs as Peeves flies off while still poking fun at him. The former now making his way towards the Slytherin common room before muttering the password to the usual stretch of brickwork. Just as he's about to enter, Harry catches a glimpse of the—quite scary—Slytherin House ghost.

"Well done, young Potter," is all the Baron says before floating away.

"Uh, thanks." Harry steps into the common room but is greeted by a blast of noise. Dozens of hands drag him to the centre of the room before the Slytherin Prefect, Yasmin, holds him by the front of his clothes.

"How did you do it? How in the world have you tricked that Age Line? I've been drawing up countless plans"—she holds up two crumpled parchments in her left hand—"but none could've worked! Not even the Weasley twins could get in, and they're usually quite crafty. How'd you do it?"

Harry tries so hard to explain that he's not at fault, but eventually sighs upon giving up. The sheer level of celebration and anti-Gryffindor mockery happening has him simply deciding to party himself out for the night. Twice the celebrations indeed, as Marcus Flint had guessed, before Harry ends up standing on a table. The Champion now being levitated around while dancing as Pansy describes as being 'a madman.'

At some point after dancing and cheering, Harry's pulled off into the girls' dormitory tunnels where Pansy and the rest hurriedly question him. Eventually, they seem to be the only ones in the common room who believe his protests.

"Because I know my Harry all too well. No way he'd be this silly to get himself in danger of being killed," says Pansy confidently.

"Um, you might want to spend the night by us, if that's possible. Your roommates seem awfully nasty tonight," says Daphne rather worriedly.

After exiting the tunnels, then crossing the common room into the boys' side, Harry enters to a quiet room. Crabbe and Goyle stand confusedly behind a rather unamused Draco, while Nott and Zabini openly glare at him.

"Had fun, Potter? You could have at least given us a shot at glory. Don't you have enough?" asks Nott.

"Oh for God's sake not this again. Look, if you want me out this room then fine. Because I am seriously  _not_  in the mood to argue here once more. Believe me when I say that I didn't put my name in the Goblet of Fire."

"I don't know about this. Alibis are not, it is awfully convenient for you," says Draco suspiciously.

"And what about Pansy's cousin, huh? She's in it too," replies Harry.

"Irrelevant, she's at least of age. But the main thing is how  _you_  snuck yourself in," says Zabini.

The arguments and attempts at absolving himself proof useless before Harry groans. "Alright then, before we start attacking each other I'll just piss off!"

Grateful to have finally found a legitimate reason to be with his girls, Harry grabs and packs his trunk. Then he leaves behind his made-up bed, and empty drawers, before storming off towards the girls' side. But right upon reaching the entrance to the tunnels, he gasps as none other than Snape strides across the noisy common room towards him.

"Oh sh—"

"Potter, what is the meaning of all this?"

"I, uh, well you see, sir..." Harry tries his best to plead his case for needing to temporarily move away from his hostile dormitory. A notion that has Snape glaring down at him.

"How many school rules do you intend on breaking this year, hmm?"

"I didn't put my name in the Goblet, sir."

"Funny, your  _father_  would've tried exactly that if he were in your position..."

If Harry could, he would swear in exasperation at this topic yet again. But now's not the time to get hostile, and so he looks up at Snape. "Those guys have got it in for me, sir. As bad as things could've gotten before, there's a whole new level of hostilities in there now. It is quite dangerous for me."

"Then I will have a Prefect stationed nearby, and address your concerns with those roommates." Snape seemingly ignores the partying happening behind, in the common room area, while looking at Harry.

"Every single night? Every single minute that I might be in the room with those hostile dormmates presents a hell of a threat. With all due respect, sir, that's not exactly a conducive environment for anything good."

"You survived it last year, so I don't see why you cannot stay there now. Or are you attempting to take advantage of this situation? Always with the girls..."

Guessing that the topic might go back to his father, for whatever reason, Harry remains adamantly pleading his case. He insists that last year's hostilities would be nothing compared to this year. Soon, Yasmin comes over to inquire about their hushed conversation.

"Why are you standing with your trunk, Harry?" she asks, before listening to his side of the story. "Sir, this one sounds bad indeed. We can't keep watch on him all the time in the dormitories. And moving him elsewhere there won't work because I've heard a few other guys shooting nasty remarks tonight."

As much as Harry reckons his Head of House dislikes him, he knows that safety for Slytherins is top of the list for now. After a moment's consideration, Snape speaks, "Fine, we'll give this time to sort itself out. But listen to me  _very_  carefully..."

He shoves Harry against the wall before giving strict instructions and guidelines. Although Snape allows him to stay in the fourth year girls' dormitory room, even the slightest report of foul behaviour will have Harry reprimanded accordingly.

"If I hear you breaking any of these rules then it's back to the boys' side, understand, Potter?"

Harry nods nervously, before Snape has Yasmin escort him down the tunnels. While walking along the stony passages, she turns to look at Harry. "I can't believe how much crap you put up with, man. Scold all we like, there's no complete guarantee of keeping you safe with  _that_  lot in your room 24/7. And to think you've still got three years left here..."

"That was a hell of a lot of rules Professor Snape laid down. I mean, it's not like I'm gonna snog or get laid with anyone in here..." Harry's comment brings a snort of laughter from Yasmin.

"Puberty, boy, you're in it now. Can't be too certain around an animal like you. Mister Triwizard Champion indeed. Better caged up with rules than placing yourself in danger next door."

"To think it's reached the point where I've had to flee from my own dormitory. Life's not fair at all, and Snape's hardly making anything easier."

Yasmin looks curiously at him. "What makes you so sure that every girl is as good as most boys are bad here? You could be in danger here too, just like you're fleeing from your dorm."

Harry shakes his head as they near the end of a side tunnel leading to Pansy's room. "But at least here I've got some good friends to keep watch. I dunno who the hell put my name in the Goblet but I'm sure as heck gonna keep alert from now on. Can't trust anyone really."

"Well, things sure are gonna get interesting soon. I can't remember if Slytherin House has ever had reason to be divided. Now we've got at least half liking you, some undecided, and others hating your guts," says Yasmin, upon opening the door and letting him into the room.

"Nobody's perfect, not even this House. Let people think what they will but I don't give a darn. Right now, survival is my goal. Uh, wow, that was quick." Harry looks around to see that a sixth bed has somehow already been added to Pansy's dormitory. He then deposits his trunk before heading for an adjacent bathroom to freshen himself up before climbing atop his bed. Throughout the rest of the night, he wonders who's set him and Alyssa up to compete in this Tournament, and for what purpose?


	16. The Day After The Draw

"Rise and shine, Mister Green Eyes."

"I think you mean... 'leetle green Quidditch teddy bear', Pansy."

"Let's not walk around in our underwear in front of Harry, poor thing's hitting _that_  age now."

Sunday morning arrives as Harry wakes up to a refreshing atmosphere from his usual room. No annoyances such as Nott, Zabini, or occasionally Draco. Now he sits up and pulls back the emerald curtains to see five girls ready to head out.

"The Champion is awake! All hail the mighty saviour of Hogwarts." Daphne can't help but giggle as she continues to playfully bow, letting her blonde hair fall downward. "Your Majesty."

Sally-Anne has a go at teasing next as she laughs. "We have been awaiting your awakening up, uh... haha.. Lord Slytherin-Potter-Black."

"What the hell? That's the most revolting bunch of titles I've ever heard. For God's sake don't let people hear that Sirius is my godfather," sighs Harry. "Please don't ever call me that nonsense again."

"Hmm..." Tracey clicks her fingers. "Aha! Mister Heir of Slytherin... Harry Salazar Slytherin-Potter-Black."

Millicent shakes her head. "No, no, we are getting it all wrong here. It's His Highness Lord Minister Champion Headmaster Professor Mister Harry James Potter-Slytherin-Parkinson-Black!"

"Oh for f—"

"Yes!" Pansy hops up in joy. "I like that last one indeed. But we're all missing something here. Come on, Mister Delacour, it's time to have breakfast."

While shaking his head and softly laughing, Harry climbs out of bed. The girls now snigger as he heads into the bathroom to freshen up and get dressed, before stepping out with comb in hand.

"You know that's a lost cause, right?" asks Daphne, while watching him comb his hair.

"Just trying to show my scar for people to gawk at." Harry grins smugly upon finally parting his bangs to show the famous lightning bolt. Though the rest of his hair remains as unruly as ever.

"Hmm, looks like somebody's trying to impress their fellow female Champion," says Millicent.

"Now which one might that be? Johnson, Delacour or Parkinson?" Tracey's question is met with slightly narrowed eyes from Pansy.

"Hey, hands off my cousin. She's gonna finish school first then go man-hunting, hmph."

"Man-hunting?" Harry gawks at the amused Pansy. "Well, to answer your question it's not for anyone specifeec. Or maybe it ees for a certain someone out zere who ees rather prettee if I may say so again."

They soon exit the common room to head up to the entrance hall. The prospect of being treated like a hero by much of Slytherin excites Harry, although it's clear there are some who dislike him.

"Nott and whoever better keep their mouths shut. I'm in no mood for jealous prats who can't understand that it's not my fault everything happens to me."

"Well said, Mister Champion," says Pansy, before pushing open the entrance to the Great Hall. Almost instantly, all Hogwarts heads turn to look at Harry. The expressions of many a Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw student speaks volumes now.

"Oh man, if looks could kill..." says Millicent before Harry grins mischievously.

"Funny you should say that. As a matter of fact looks  _can_  kill. Just ask the Basilisk, oh, wait, I stabbed it dead."

"Bloody smart mouth strikes again." Daphne leads the way over to the Slytherin table where Harry is met with a rather pleasant surprise. Fleur appears to be sitting next to Alyssa, and back on speaking terms.

"Now that was some swift forgiveness, what did I miss?" he asks, after sitting down beside Fleur at the end of the table.

"Good morning! It ees what people say when zey see each uzzer for ze first time in ze mornings."

"Oh, sorry, good morning to you all. Now please tell me what's made you two best friends again?"

Fleur scoffs before responding, "Well, zey 'ave not been vairy nice to Alyssa in ze carriages. Everyone zinks she 'as cheated 'er way into ze Tournament."

"Probably sounds familiar to you, eh, Harry? Just look how everyone's shooting daggers at you here," says Alyssa.

"I do not see anybody wiz knives around 'ere."

"It's an idiom, Fleur." Harry briefly tries to explain what an idiom can be. She swiftly catches on before remarking that her English truly needs improvement.

"So, my fellow cheater, what'll it be for breakfast?" asks Alyssa cheekily to Harry, which elicits a sigh from her cousin seated opposite them.

"Don't say it like that. We both know it's certainly not your faults."

As they munch through their breakfasts over the next few minutes, the usual owl post arrives in the morning. Sure enough, a familiar snowy owl descends upon the Slytherin table.

" _Merde!_ " shrieks Fleur as the owl lands atop her head. "Whose owl is zis? It certainly needs to learn ze proper manners."

"Atta girl, Hedwig! Land on the silvery blonde perch indeed," laughs Harry, while removing a roll of parchment from Hedwig's leg and feeding her some treats. After happily hooting and flying around, she takes her leave out the Great Hall.

"My 'air is not a perch for your owl." Fleur glares at Harry before softening her expression again. "But zat is a pretty owl indeed."

With the letter unrolled in his hands, Harry declares that it's from Sirius Black.

"I 'ave seen zat you are friends wiz zese Sirius Black man, very interesting choice of friends, 'Arry."

"Uh, yeah, thanks. Don't think anyone else can say they're friends with good people who'd been locked up so long in Azkaban."

"You are vairy funny, yes."

Harry continues to read out the letter wherein Sirius tries to guess who's at fault for entering both additional names into the Tournament. But he has to lower his voice while reading the speculation regarding Igor Karkaroff, since the Durmstrang students happen to be seated farther down the Slytherin table. Sirius also provides a brief explanation of Karkaroff having been a Death Eater, caught and imprisoned by Moody. Though he was freed after doing a deal with the Ministry.

"Ha, idiot got himself caught, well my mom got away from Mister Moody back in the day," says Pansy haughtily, before Harry carries on reading. Now Sirius mentions the news regarding some Ministry of Magic witch who's gone missing in Albania before the Tournament had started.

"Albania..." Harry wonders if the Dark Lord himself might know about this Tournament, though he doesn't mention it now. In fact, Dumbledore had advised him not to discuss Voldemort more than what's necessary with his friends. For everyone knows that some Slytherins are related to Death Eaters who remain free. Pansy Parkinson included.

"Pretty place, what's the deal?" she asks.

"Uh, nothing. Just thinking."

Harry sighs in relief that Sirius had not directly written down his thoughts of Voldemort possibly being somewhere in Albania. The letter then carries on with him advising Harry to forget the rules and seek help wherever he can.

"Sounds like Sirius thinks Moody wouldn't mind breaking a few rules to prep me for the Tournament. Guess I should grab the opportunity then."

"Uh, Harry," says Daphne, while pointing to the curious ladies beside him. "You do realize that two of your competitors are right next to you, eh?"

"Read on, Fleur and I are just as clueless about the First Task as you are. I reckon we"—Alyssa lowers her voice to a whisper—"should help each other out and get a headstart, right?"

Now Fleur whispers, and Harry pauses to appreciate the sound of her lowered voice. It certainly sends pleasant shivers down his spine. "You will very much need zat headstart, both of you. One is underage and ze uzzer quite lazy in class. I do not want you all to die, if ze First Task is a dangerous one."

"Yeah, let's leave the backstabbing and betrayal for whatever the last task is," whispers Harry, much to the amusement of Fleur and Alyssa.

"May the best of the Five-Wizard Tournament win, in the end," replies the latter.

Sirius' letter concludes by advising Harry to keep his friends close, his enemies in watch, and not go around needlessly accusing anyone specific. It firmly notes that Sirius' guess on Karkaroff is pure speculation. Most likely untrue as the prideful Headmaster would never place himself and his Champion at such a miserable disadvantage.

"Makes sense," says Harry. "He got really upset back there. No, my guess is it's someone else who's set us up. Karkaroff wouldn't risk going back to Azkaban, ruining his reputation with his school, and denying his own star student the opportunity to win such a prestigious tournament," whispers Harry.

"Hmm, maybe it's Aunt Holly who's set us up? I reckon she's gonna hand us over to the Dark Lord if he's still out there—OW!" Alyssa groans as Pansy kicks her leg beneath the table.

"Bloody awful joke that is. Hmph, not funny. Mom wasn't even here at all!"

"Was just kidding, man, you kick like a horse," says Alyssa, while the girls—and Harry—seated nearby laugh.

The surprising continuation of friendship between Harry, Alyssa, and Fleur, even after the draw, elicits a variety of reactions from the students. Those of Hogwarts, barring most of Slytherin, openly glare at Harry, while the Durmstrang lot scowl at both Harry and Alyssa. Then the Beauxbatons group direct most of their dislike towards their second Champion.

"This is like a political minefield going on around here now," says Harry, to the slight confusion of his peers. "Muggle terminology, sorry."

"A mine is a thing that Muggles use..." Pansy tries to explain Harry's use of 'minefield', before Alyssa sniggers.

"Shame, she's really bored at home to have read up on Muggle stuff like that."

"Oh, shut up. Muggles are stupid, so it's fun to read up on their stupidity."

Sitting a few seats to Harry's right, Millicent speaks. "By the way, your Gryffindor pals have been looking at you every now and then."

"Where..." Harry looks to his left, just about spotting a few fourth year Gryffindors, including Ginny and Hermione, looking his way. But his brief bit of eye contact with them certainly doesn't go unnoticed by Fleur.

"Zey are impolite to be staring like zat. Are zey your uzzer friends?"

Harry nods before Fleur places her hand on his shoulder.

"Well, if you ask me I do not recommend zat you go soon to zem—"

"I think the word you're looking for is 'approach' them," says Daphne, before seeing Fleur gesture a finger on the lip.

"—Shhhh, I am talking!"

"Oh, pardon me, Miss High-and-Mighty veela." Daphne then whispers in Tracey's ear. "More like, Mrs. Potter one day, am I right?"

"Don't be ridiculous, she's only gonna be here for one year," replies a whispering Tracey. Fleur now continues to speak while having not noticed the sly remark.

"...zey 'ave zeir own 'Ogwarts Champion over zere. Actually, it looks like many of your people do not like you. Just as many of my people do not like Alyssa."

"Stuff them then," says Alyssa, while finishing her last bit of breakfast. "I just hope you don't stab me in the back anytime soon."

"I shall not comment on zat."

"I'm just trying to survive now. You see, people don't realize that Harry Potter has an extracurricular activity called 'near-death experience' every year. Bonus points if they're more than once. Pity I don't get marked on them," says Harry stiffly. "You show me another 11 year old grabbed by a stinking mad Professor trying to kill them."

"You should really write a book about your life some day, Harry. Would sell faster than Lockhart ever managed, and that's saying something," says Tracey.

"Knowing him, he'd prank the Wizarding World by typing it on a computer and printing it on Muggle-made paper. None of the Magical means of printing they do here," scoffs Pansy, to which Harry can't help but grin.

"Zese friends of yours are funny people," whispers Fleur in Harry's ear.

"Yeah, yeah they are," he responds almost dreamily, before adding a remark to the girls. "And I'd sign each copy with Muggle pens... fountain pens, ballpoint... whatever. Then leave a quid in each book."

"Public insulting enemy number 1 you'd be," replies Pansy, before they spend the next half an hour simply hanging out at the Slytherin table.

Hours later, Harry follows up on Moody's request by heading to his office after lunch. Since Fleur and Alyssa are aware that he's now seeing his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher in private, they admit that they'll be chatting with their Headmistress for guidance. Upon reaching the office, Harry is about to knock before the door is pulled open by a spell.

"Constant vigilance, I guess." Harry enters the room which looks remarkably different from Lupin's term. An odd assortment of objects decorate the office, which Harry reckons are from Moody's days as an Auror.

"Sneakoscope that is," says Moody, while seeing Harry eyeing the large, cracked, glass spinning top on his desk. "Very useful for detecting deceit and one's enemies. Bit of an annoyance with the noise it makes though, so it works both ways if one's trying to keep hidden."

"I should think about getting one of these," replies Harry, who reckons he could use something like this in his own dormitory. Then he spots what appears to resemble a golden TV aerial, which Moody describes as a Secrecy Sensor.

"Vibrates when it detects concealment and lies, another useful object if one needs to be vigilant. Never know who might be lurking around these days." Moody then spots Harry glancing at the mirror hanging on the wall.

"It's not reflecting the room at all. Who are these shadowy figures?" asks Harry, while looking at the indiscernible shadows moving about.

"That'd be my Foe-Glass. It's only bad for me when I can see the whites of their eyes. Anything else catch your attention, Potter?"

Harry looks around the room and spots a large trunk beneath the window. It puzzles him to see it having seven keyholes in a row. "Now that's an odd trunk indeed."

"Well, I need somewhere to store all the spellbooks, quills, parchment and whatever else I need. Very useful for an old Auror too, though I don't suggest trying to copy it. Might get into big trouble with the Ministry."

"How so? That trunk looks cool."

"Ha!" Moody gives off a rather harsh laugh. "Cool enough to land you in jail perhaps. That trunk's carrying a charm that's otherwise illegal if not registered with the Ministry. Seventh compartment's where I used to keep whatever Dark wizard and Death Eater I captured during the old days. Makes transporting 'em much easier for me, and breaking free much harder for them. But you get a few who've slipped away before capture, like your pal's mum. Now sit, and let's discuss what the hell's going on around here." He now brings out a chair for Harry to sit on.

 The fact of having had two competent Defence Professors in a row gives Harry a fair bit of optimism now. Though he does feel a fair bit uneasy with Moody's magical eye constantly watching him, in addition to his normal one. "First of all, I'd like to say that I did not put my name into the Goblet of Fire, as is Alyssa innocent."

Nodding, Moody responds. "That's just what I thought, laddie. No way you could've hoodwinked the Goblet and Dumbledore. Now the biggest question of them all is: who's at fault here? I'm sure you're aware that there are a few Death Eaters, or 'past' Death Eaters if you get such a thing, in this school. Severus Snape and Igor Karkaroff come to mind."

"I don't know, really. Snape doesn't much like me, but  _this_  is beyond him."

"Oh? What makes you so sure about that?"

"Because Dumbledore trusts him. So I reckon he's little more than a bothersome teacher holding old grudges against my father, for whatever reason."

"Yes, I've heard about some of that from Lupin. Anyway, that brings us to Karkaroff. Hmm, tricky man that is, and quite an actor too. Have you heard about his past?"

Harry nods, feeling no reason to hide Sirius' letter which he soon reads out. Moody now appears rather impressed that his godfather's looking out this 'vigilantly' for him.

"Good old Sirius, well, he's as much a laddie as I'm an old man," laughs Moody. "Pity he made that horrible mistake of trusting Pettigrew. Well, we _all_ did but what's done is done I guess. At least you'll be seeing Sirius in the days leading up to the Tasks. So, I take it nobody knows anything about them yet?"

"Not a thing besides the vague clues given by Mr. Crouch. Speaking of whom, I've been meaning to ask..."

Moody's expression turns to intrigue now as Harry continues.

"Why's he so stressed out? Is organizing the Tournament really  _this_  difficult? The man looks ready to get a heart attack or stroke or whatever at any minute. Well I know Muggles tend to get those things more than we do."

The grave tone in Moody's voice puts an end to Harry's bit of humour. "Hmm, you make a fair point there. Very observant of you indeed. Yes, I know old Barty well from the old days of when he was Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Always was tense and stern but nowadays he's unusually so. I think there's something going on with him that we're not aware of. Have you heard about his house elf?"

Harry shakes his head.

"Apparently, Barty came home and found his place looking like a dump, and his elf murdered. Now who the hell could have done something like that? Ain't nothing much been stolen at all. People just don't go breaking in to kill house elves. Of course, the story's all hushed up now as not even the newspapers are printing it."

After giving this some thought, Harry admits defeat with a sigh. "I honestly don't know what's going on. Far as I've heard, the man's lost a lot in life. Maybe the elf was the final straw and Mr. Crouch is just a depressed, lonely old man?"

"Maybe." Moody leans back in his chair while stretching out his wooden leg. "Wife's dead, his son's dead. Pity for that last one though, Barty Jr. always had some talent I'd say. Very smart kid,  _smart_... Anyway, there's little we can do now but hope you, or anyone else, don't end up dead in these Tasks. Wouldn't want Harry Potter to fall before the Final Task now would we? That'd be a great shame to us all, pretty sure you've got the whole of Slytherin cheering you on."

Harry scoffs. "Ha, well, they're the only Hogwarts students probably not hating on me now. Except that there are some nasty looks coming my way in the common room. Malfoy and the lot don't seem too pleased about all this."

"Malfoy!" Moody slams his fist on the desk. "Coward scumbags indeed, that includes his father. I reckon you'll need a hundred-thousand Sneakoscopes around that lot in your room. But enough jokes, let's discuss preparations for whatever this Tournament's about to throw at you."

"Care to give a guess, sir?"

Moody adopts a thoughtful expression. "Courage and daring... that's too vague to go on, very much so. Could be anything, really. Hell, what if they put you Champions duelling against one another? You'd be easy prey for those older students, laddie."

"I guess we can't just sit here all afternoon throwing guesses. Might as well prepare as if it's gonna be a duel, right?" asks Harry.

"Yes, very good idea there, Potter! Lupin said you were a fairly vigilant one. So, let's pretend that the First Task will be a big, bad duel. What progress have we made in our lessons so far?"

"Uh, we only ever practiced the Shield Charm over and over again."

"Perfect! They say the best defence is a good offense, well, I agree. But I also say that a good offence consists of a kick arse defence. You got anything planned for this afternoon?"

"Not really, no. They won't mind me gone for the next few hours."

Harry's response has Moody slap his hand on the desk. "Right, let's get to it. Meet up at the Defence class, and try not to let anyone follow you."

After exiting Moody's office, Harry makes his way up to the third floor towards the serpentine corridor. Here he enters Classroom 3C once more for yet another hour's worth of shield charm training with Moody. Although he's grown bored of casting  _Protego_  over and over again against Moody's spells, the uncertainty of the Tournament forces him to endure the session.

Eventually, he exits the class while feeling as drained as ever around late afternoon, before catching up with Fleur at the first floor corridor. When asked, she explains that Pansy's gone off to spend some alone time with her cousin. The rest of the girls, however, have decided upon heading back to the common room.

"You look vairy tired indeed. What 'ave you been doing for so many 'ours?" asks Fleur, as they briefly sit down against a wall. She appears to be eyeing him closely, while Harry decides to be honest.

"Well, I've been going over a bit of duelling practice with Mad-Eye Moody." He stands apprehensive now, wondering if he's just made a mistake in being this honest towards an opponent.

But she simply laughs heartedly. "Oh but you are evidently so young, leetle Slyzerin boy. I zink you do need all ze 'elp you can get, shame."

Minutes later, they decide upon heading to the entrance hall where Harry has them stop to stand at the base of the marble steps. "Ha, well, you said it right a few times before, 'Slytherin' I mean."

"Slyzerin? Slyzerin!" A slightly red-faced Fleur scowls upon struggling with the name. "Slyzerin... Ugh, I give it up now—"

What Harry views as a rather cute moment is soon cut short by the arrival of his roommates as they enter the hall. Malfoy and Nott walk to stand before Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini while approaching Harry.

"Yeah, everything just seems to go your way, doesn't it, Potter?" Malfoy's sudden outright hostility attracts the attention of the nearby students. These include lower year Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and a few Gryffindors in Harry's year, namely Fay and Eloise.

"Zey do not seem vairy friendly now. I zought zey were your friends?" Fleur steps back to observe the scene as Harry shakes his head.

"How many times haven't I been nice to you, Malfoy? Even saved your arse a few times at the Snitch. Is this how you repay me?"

"Draco Malfoy doesn't need to 'repay' you at all. You're the one who owes us an apology for not even telling us how you snuck yourself into the Tournament," says Nott, before Zabini backs him up:

"Don't try to make us believe you never put your name in. Why would anyone eligible for this glorious competition bother to put  _your_  name in? That is a rubbish excuse on your behalf."

"Yeah," says Crabbe.

"What they said," adds Goyle.

Malfoy steps forward now, metres from the offended Harry. "Those girls have been rallying the common room to like you. How convenient that most of them are happy to see a Slytherin Champion."

"Listen to yourselves! Fighting against a fellow Slytherin now when you should be backing me up. I didn't ask to be in this Tournament, you know."

"Everything just seems to favour Harry Potter every single time. Why does all the stuff happen to a Half-Blood in our House? Why can't a Pureblood ever get such an opportunity to represent us? It's a darn shame!" replies Nott angrily.

"You know what's funny?" Zabini turns to look at the four boys gathered around him. "Potter's even lost the appeal of his Mudblood and whoever else friends in Gryffindor now. Nobody likes you in this school, cheater."

"I don't care who likes me or not. To hell with kissing arse and trying to win back people. Fine, call me a cheater. I guess I'll just have to act like I put my name in, and enjoy this bit of fame," replies Harry furiously, before turning around and trying to climb up the marble steps.

"I'm still talking you, Potter!" shouts Nott. "Turn around and face me like a real Wizard, and not a Half one."

"'e is so rude," whispers Fleur in Harry's ear. "Making fun of your blood like zat is so stupid—"

Nott raises his voice yet again while Zabini and Malfoy stand in agreement. "Malfoy's father did some background checks on the THREE Triwizard Champions, and guess what he found out about that thing whispering to you? Oh, she might be pretty, but that's only because she's got veela ancestry!"

Shaking his head rather calmly, Zabini merely snorts with laughter. "How disappointing, Potter. Parkinson and the girls are understandable. Then there was your Mudblood pal who really disgusted us. But this is taking it even further."

"Delacour isn't even fully human," says Malfoy, before Nott agrees:

"She's less than even a filthy Mudblood, she's a part-human thing."

"No, 'Arry do not let zem get you like zis. I 'ave 'eard zat stupid statement enough times to ignore it."

"Your dad looks like a homeless man,  _Theodore._ " Harry smirks as Nott reaches for his wand.

"Don't talk about my father like that.  _Expelliarmus!"_

_"STUPEFY!"_

Screams of younger students fill the entrance hall as the stunning spell blasts through the disarming charm, sending both Nott and Zabini across the room. The pair now landing—nearly unconscious—against the wall to the left of the castle's entrance.

"What the hell? Have you lost your mind?" Malfoy steps back as Harry runs down the steps, blasts Crabbe and Goyle backwards, and then shoves him against a nearby wall.

"I expected better from you, Draco Malfoy. I can understand why you'd mock Hermione, but Fleur's a different story." He holds his wand to Malfoy's neck while the latter essentially trembles. "Don't you or your friends  _ever_  degrade Fleur like that. Have a little bit of respect for a change."

From behind Harry, Zabini gets to his feet first before taking aim with his wand. "Cheap shot, Potter.  _Flipendo_ _!_ "

" _Protego."_

"Vairy impressive." Fleur has to stifle her laughter as Zabini's spell is deflected right back at him, knocking him metres across the room again.

Turning to look at Fleur ahead, Harry smiles as his shield goes down. "Well I have been prac—"

"You don't own Slytherin, Potter, so quit acting like you do!  _Everte Statum_ _!_ "

Something hits Harry square in the back before the sensation of being smacked with a pan fills him. Moments later, he lands face down on the steps before the startled Fleur. But then a bang sounds from behind, followed by a roaring scream:

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

More student screams fill the hall as Harry turns around to see Moody standing in the room's centre. His wand now pointing at a pure white ferret shivering on the stone-flagged floor.

"Are you ma—" Malfoy is swiftly quietened by the glare of Moody, who looks at Harry while the surrounding students stand in silence.

"Shouldn't have let that shield go down, Potter. LEAVE IT!"

"What?" Harry gawks at Moody, whose magical eye appears to be facing the back of his head.

"Not you, him." Moody points towards Zabini, who freezes upon trying to pick up the white ferret. The Professor then begins limping towards them as they try and retreat to the dungeons. "Oh I don't think so!"

Harry watches in amusement as Moody takes aim and begins levitating, bouncing, and smacking the ferret against the floor. All the while reprimanding them for attacking someone whose back is turned on them. "COWARDLY, SCUMMY ATTACK ON YOUR OWN FELLOW SLYTHERIN? NEVER EVER DO THAT AGAIN!"

Moments later, Professor McGonagall descends the marble steps, and after passing Harry she gasps. It soon becomes evident that the ferret might be a student.

"No!" McGonagall races down the steps, draws her wand, and then casts a spell that has Theodore Nott reappearing on the floor. His rabbity face now a humiliated shade of pink, and his short dark hair markedly dishevelled.

"Moody, we  _never_  use Transfiguration as a punishment! Surely Professor Dumbledore's told you that?"

"Well, he might've mentioned it, yeah. Thought it'd be a good bit of shock for these cowards."

Professor McGonagall continues to scathingly remind him of the proper procedure for punishing students. Meanwhile, Nott gets to his feet beside a rather startled Malfoy who mutters something about his father.

"Oh yeah?" Moody limps menacingly towards the terrified bunch. "I know both your fathers from back then. You tell 'em Mad-Eye Moody's keeping a good eye on their sons! Bunch of no good, scummy, cowardly, jealous—"

"Alastor, that's enough," says McGonagall, before turning to look at the laughing Harry and Fleur.

"Let's go see Professor Snape, been looking forward to seeing him dish out some scolding." Moody then scares Harry's attackers into leading the way towards the dungeons.

With all except Harry, Fleur, and Professor McGonagall having left the entrance hall, the trio stand near the marble staircase. Almost immediately, Harry seizes the opportunity to cast a spell and levitate McGonagall's books upward. Though it seems she was just seconds away from doing exactly that.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter, two points to Slytherin." She holds the books once more before giving him an amused look. "I see you're making new friends..."

"Well, 'e is an interesting one with ze funny jokes I must say. "

"Professor..." Harry scratches the back of his hair while nervously looking up at McGonagall. "I didn't mean to steal Gryffindor's moment like that."

"Right now, we're far more concerned than upset over all this. Professor Dumbledore's been rather busy trying to understand how it is that you and the Parkinson girl are in it. Strange that it just happens to be a relative of your good friend."

"I'm absolutely clueless as well, ma'am," replies Harry, before Fleur grins cheekily.

"Do not worry, I will be your friend until ze Final Task. Zen it is every Champion for zemselves, yes?"

"Oh yes, you can be my friend as long as you'd like—" Harry's remark is interrupted by a sigh on McGonagall's part.

"This one"—She points at him while looking at Fleur—"Do be careful around, and I'm not speaking about the Tournament."

Harry gasps as McGonagall walks away while looking rather amused with herself. He then turns to speak softly with Fleur. "Listen, about what was said earlier..."

She gives a slight laugh. "I am not, as zey say, a damsel in distress, 'Arry. Do not tell me zat you zink today is ze first time I 'ave 'eard such comments about my ancestry and human status? I do not care about what uzzers zink. If anything,  _you_  seem to be ze 'damsel in distress' in zis Tournament now."

"Oh how absolutely funnee. Yes, vairy funnee you are. Such a joker, aren't you?" Harry smiles politely while trying to hide his obvious teasing of her.

"Where does ze leetle cheater want to go now? Zere are still a few hours left until dinner." Her tone now becomes playfully sarcastic, which Harry finds absolutely adorable. "More 'eavy 'Ogwarts food for me! I am so 'appy at ze fattening foods zey serve 'ere. At least zere are many steps in zis ugly castle to use."

"What would you like to do now?" asks Harry.

"It ees difficult to prepare for a Task we do not know anything about. I would say zat you seem ready for ze action already."

Although she appears uncaring of Harry's earlier skirmish, the slight smile on Fleur's face says otherwise. He reckons that she does indeed appreciate his defensive response, even if she's perfectly capable of handling herself. This might be why she hasn't told him off for hanging out with her, yet again.

"Uh, are we gonna stand in the entrance hall all day?"

"I would like to be somewhere warm and not catching zis awful cold wind in my neck. You must know zis castle like ze back of your 'and, yes? Show me somewhere warm." Fleur gives a slightly wicked look. "And do not try to take me somewhere naughty. I am watching you carefully, 'Arry Potter."

"Now that sounds like a good idea..."

Fleur laughs derisively before smiling. "Oh please, you cannot 'andle all of zese at your age. I do not want zat leetle brain to go  _POOF_  from being overwhelmed. Now zen, I am getting cold!"

"Whoa, calm down, okay! Lemme think..." Harry tries to think up a decent spot to sit with Fleur.

"Zink faster."

"Hold on."

Moments later, a groan is heard from the frowning Fleur.

"Zink faster!" She stomps her foot on the steps.

"Stop being so childish now, are you seventeen years old or what?"

"Faster! I do not appreciate being left out 'ere in zis wind."

"Just gimme a few more seconds to think."

"Faster!"

"Okay! Oh my word but you're an impatient one." Harry finally settles upon heading for an empty classroom. Then, after taking off his cardigan, he hands it over for her to wear as they relax until dinner. Once again, Harry finds himself obediently casting the hot-air charm over Fleur to keep her snug and cosy.

 


	17. The Wand Weighing Ceremony

Monday marks the first day of classes following the Triwizard, or 'Five-Wizard' as some have taken to calling it, draw. Not in the mood for fighting with his own male roommates, Harry remains staying with the girls. Then he leaves the common room remarkably early to head for breakfast in the partially filled Great Hall.

The stares and looks never seem to let up for Harry wherever he goes, and it hardly helps that Durmstrang's arrived early at the Slytherin table too. But thankfully, Harry manages to get just enough friendly faces between himself and Krum's supporters to avoid an encounter. It also doesn't help that some of the boys, including Malfoy and the rest, have taken to openly supporting Krum over anyone else. Their dislike extends to Angelina, a Gryffindor, Harry and Alyssa, mocked as 'cheaters', as well as Fleur who they've already thoroughly insulted.

With breakfast aside, Harry hurries off to History of Magic, Monday's one being shared with the Ravenclaws. Having arrived first allows him to position himself at the front right corner of the room before the girls sit nearby. This proves a success as none of the Ravenclaws are able to question him before the bell sounds to signal the end of class.

"Breaktime, so does Harry boy want to go seek out his mistress?" asks Sally-Anne, as the group of girls surround Harry while walking together through the first floor corridor.

"This is all just like second year. People shooting me the same looks as when they thought I was the Heir of Slytherin."

Daphne sniggers before replying, "But you are the Heir of Slytherin."

"Oh how very funny, that joke's like an old, rotten fart."

"I'm just kidding man, no need to take it so personal. Oh look, there's your boss lady." Daphne points out Fleur, who happens to be walking beside Alyssa down the marble steps in the entrance hall. "Boss lady, over here!" calls Daphne, causing Fleur to turn around in slight amusement.

"Um, good morning," greets Harry, who remains partially enchanted by the part-veela's beauty. "That is what people say when they see each other for the first time in the mornings."

"Haha!" Alyssa slaps the nodding Fleur on the back. "He's got you there now."

"Good morning to you all zen. Zere, I 'ave said it."

"How are you finding classes here?" asks Harry, who's heard of the foreign students sharing some of their curriculum with Hogwarts.

"Zair are stairs zat we use to get to zem, yes."

Harry stifles his laughter. "No man, I meant 'find' as in—"

"She's being sarcastic," says Alyssa, before Harry facepalms himself and groans. The smug look on Fleur's face now slightly reddens Harry's cheeks.

"Oh hell no she didn't."

"It ees too early to be asking such a question as we 'ave only arrived last Friday." Fleur changes the topic upon tilting her head while looking at Harry. "Your 'air is still very untidy, do you not have a brush?"

Pansy tries to explain the workings of Harry's forever unruly hair, before adding a bit of a laugh at the end. "However, there is still some hope courtesy of Harry's grandfather."

Alyssa snaps her fingers before grinning at Harry. "Aha! I knew there was something I was gonna ask. So you  _are_  obviously related to Mister Fleamont Potter! Then why don't you buy a year's worth of Sleekeazy's and tame that hair?"

"Far too much effort, really."

The look on Fleur's face makes Harry feel that a mischievous remark is imminent. "Now I understand even more, 'e is needing to be groomed and neatened up, yes?"

"Oh, God, you folks are making me sound like... a pet or something."

Tracey leans to whisper in Harry's ear. "Maybe you are a pet... Fleur's pet, if you know what I mean. Who knows, maybe she'll  _play_  with you some day."

"What?" Harry tries his best to mask his reaction to the comment.

"I did not 'ear what zat girl 'as said, do tell me, 'Arry."

"Uh, she reckons that I should rather leave my hair like this. Untidy look suits me better, yeah."

"Vairy well zen, I understand. Ze wild Quidditch man needs to look ze part before he goes to classes, leetle fourth-year."

For the next few minutes, Harry stands rather awkwardly just looking at Fleur. The latter slightly raising her brows while awaiting his response. Meanwhile, the six girls standing around them giggle and whisper as they watch Harry fidget with his thumbs.

"Looks like 'is brain 'as frozen in zis cold wairzer around us."

"Actually..." Pansy sniggers after listening to Millicent's whisper. "His brain has frozen for different reasons indeed." She then coughs something sounding suspiciously like 'Fleur'.

"Breaktime's over, kids, time to get to classes," says Alyssa, before walking off with a softly laughing Fleur.

Harry's few minutes of warmth from seeing Fleur comes to a halt upon reaching Care of Magical Creatures. Yes, he usually looks forward to seeing Hagrid again, but this time things are certainly different. While the Gryffindors have yet to arrive, and Hagrid seems busy in the outskirts of the forest, this leaves a divided group of Slytherins together.

"Ah, look, boys, it's the Champion," says Malfoy bitterly, while standing with Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini near the pumpkin patch. "Let's get some autographs now, because many Triwizard Champions have died in the past. Wonder how long you reckon he'd last, ten minutes, perhaps?"

The five boys laugh mockingly, before Pansy has the girls standing in a semi-circle before Harry. "Oooh, that's so very funny, Draco. You come up with that on your own or is that Nott pulling the strings here?"

"Shut up, Parkinson. You're always so defensive over Potter no matter what," says Nott, while standing beside Malfoy. "He's not even a Pureb—"

"Look out!" Pansy shrieks while pointing over Nott's shoulder. "It's Professor Moody!"

"WHAT?" Nott hurriedly looks behind before turning to face Pansy again. "T-That wasn't funny."

"My, my! Twitchy little ferret aren't you, Nott?" Pansy gives Harry a smirk that has his heart rate briefly increase, among other bodily reactions.

"Go ahead and pick on Harry, but he does have most of Slytherin House backing him in the Tournament. You jealous lot are just wasting your time," says Sally-Anne firmly. "Try not to embarrass yourselves in front of the Gryffindors, oops, too late, here they come."

Footsteps and chatter can be heard to Harry's far left as the rest of the class approach. But no sooner do they near Hagrid's Hut than Malfoy walks right up to Harry. The latter a couple inches shorter than him.

"Trying to intimidate me, Malfoy? It's not going to work. Why don't you just accept that I'm Champion and move on?"

"How'd you get into the Tournament? And give us a proper answer, Potter."

"I didn't enter, simple as that. No need for me to explain all my alibis from the time Dumbledore revealed the Goblet, to its draw."

Soon, Malfoy begins to back off with Crabbe and Goyle, while Zabini and Nott swiftly draw their wands.

"Oh, great, here we go again. Did Professor Snape not punish you two enough already?" Harry draws his wand as Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle decide to stay out of this fight. "You do realise that we're not supposed to be flinging spells at each other like this outside clas—"

Nott takes aim at Harry. "Stop being so uptight then,  _Glacius!"_

Zabini joins in with a laugh. "And get lost,  _Depulso!"_

Harry sighs while hearing the Gryffindors gasp as they stand metres away.  _"Protego."_

"Kick their arses, Harry!" yells Pansy excitedly, as both spells are deflected right back at their casters. Zabini goes flying, yet again, metres backwards while Nott hurriedly heats off the bits of ice covering his legs.

"Why does he get to do a shield charm? Potter does every bloody thing!" Nott groans loudly before firing off a variety of spells.

Harry keeps his barrier up as a tickling charm, disarming charm, stunner, and eventually a weak impediment jinx are deflected. The spells soon being evaded by both Nott and Zabini who hurriedly step aside.

"Are you two finished humiliating yourselves yet?" asks a giggling Daphne, before Nott angrily throws a disarming charm which finally breaks the shield. Then Harry's wand goes flying through the air to be caught by a cackling Nott.

"Not so perfect now, are you? Potter the cheater got disarmed."

"You showed 'em who's boss there, Theo! Come get your wand if you dare, Mister Triwizard Champion."

While the two boys jeer and mock at him, Harry grins mischievously before turning to look at his five female friends. Gesturing his hand outward, he speaks. "Any volunteers?"

"Oh, me me me me me!" Pansy hops up and down in delight before tossing her black wand to be caught by Harry. Though it feels a tad uncomfortable to use, he takes aim with a duelling stance once more.

"That wand's not gonna work for you, Potter. It's not yours." Nott shoves Harry's wand into his pocket before taking aim with his own.

"It's good enough for me,  _Expelliarmus!"_

 _"Impedimenta!"_ Nott's rather poorly casted jinx fizzles out against the jet of scarlet blasting towards him.

 _"Protego!"_ Zabini appears smug as he just about shields his pal from Harry's disarming charm. "I can do it too, you know."

"Very amazing to barely block a spell from someone not even using their own wand." Harry continues to exchange a variety of jinxes and hexes before disarming Nott. But just as he's about to attack Zabini, he spots Hagrid walking towards the class while carrying an unsteady tower of crates.

"Wha' are yeh boys doin' here now!?"

"Potter attacked us, sir," declares Nott, as the Gryffindors finally arrive to stand nearby. "Knocked me right off my feet, look, he's got my wand."

"Harry?" Hagrid eyes him thoughtfully.

"They attacked me first, he's got my wand in his pocket. Shake him down, Professor."

"Yeh two been startin' trouble with Harry again?" Hagrid puts down the crates before extending his hand. "Ain' a good idea to go fightin' everywhere, hand it over, Nott."

Sighing, Nott withdraws Harry's wand which Hagrid takes before returning it to its rightful owner. Then the class is briefed on having to walk the rather big Blast-Ended Skrewts, which they reluctantly oblige.

"Here we go," says Harry, upon walking up to Pansy as she's about to walk her skrewt. "Pretty wand for its pretty owner."

"Thank you. Oh fu—" She ends up, like most of the class, being dragged on her stomach as the skrewt shoots forward. Harry, meanwhile, can't help but laugh before Hagrid pulls him aside for some conversation regarding his selection as Champion.

"Everythin' seems ter happen ter you, almost every time."

"Well I don't have a choice but to compete. Might as well make the most of it and try not to die."

Though Harry laughs at the remark, Hagrid certainly does not. "Now don' go sayin' things like tha'. Because it seems like someone's tryin' ter do yeh in with this tournament."

Hagrid's words only add to the clear feeling of suspicion on Harry's part. So many people have already mentioned the same concerns that he wonders just who the perpetrator might be. But as the days move on, he remains absolutely clueless despite exhaustive thinking and speculation. Thursday evening sees him yet again attending 'remedial' sessions with Moody, where he remains performing the shield charm against a variety of attacks.

Harry tries his best to appreciate the open displays of pride and cheers shown by most of Slytherin House. Smiles and wishes of good luck seem to even come from students he barely knows. The exception appears to be a few, such as the fourth-year boys, who have taken to fully supporting Krum instead. Therefore, the common room often turns to a minority voicing their opinions against Harry, but they are quickly shut down by the rest.

Relationship-wise, he remains on good terms with his usual Slytherin bunch. But Harry has noticed the lack of communication with pals such as Hermione, Ginny, or other friendly faces. Though they do not appear as hostile as the rest of the Gryffindors do. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw remain highly suspicious and cold towards Harry, which he's grown used to.

Meanwhile, Harry wonders whether he's been a bit overbearing with Fleur, and has therefore been keeping his distance over the past few days as mid-November arrives.

"Stop acting like an insecure leetle man, I do not 'ave a problem eef you keep being my friend. Or is zere a problem?" asks Fleur at lunchtime on Friday, while seated beside Harry at the Slytherin table.

"Uh, not at all. I just thought maybe you'd like some space to yourself and all that. Don't wanna ruin the novelty of being with ze 'Arry Potter for you," he replies, to which Fleur gives a soft laugh.

"Ze novelty 'as already been ruined since we met at ze World Cup, leetle teddy bear."

"Why thank you very much, Miss Delacour. Your sense of sarcasm is noted."

Relieved to still be in Fleur's good books, Harry ends lunch with a smile before heading off for double Potions. Here he walks in to a peculiar sight as the Gryffindors, and Snape, have yet to arrive.

"I am absolutely  _not_  wearing that all!" scolds Malfoy, while standing in the centre of the class before a scowling Pansy.

"Yes you will!" she retorts, as Harry walks closer to see some sort of badge in her hand.

"What's going on?" he asks, before Pansy turns to face him with a smile.

"The girls and I, and some older students, were busy making these little babies over the past few days." She points towards a large badge on the front of her robes. All five of the girls in class appear to be wearing them which bear the same message. The badges' luminous green letters now burn brightly in the slightly dim room:

_Support HARRY POTTER — Our little star_

"Like them, Potter baby? We'll be handing them out from tomorrow onwards. Check this out." Pansy presses the badge into her chest, causing the message to vanish. Now a silvery lightning bolt shines against the dark green background.

"Wow, um, I dunno what to say." Harry feels his cheeks redden, before he gives a big smile indeed. "You girls never cease to amaze, thanks."

"Is the little big bad Champion going to cry?" teases Pansy, as Harry gives her a tight hug before they take their seats at a workstation. With ten minutes to go until class starts, the first Gryffindors soon arrive. Ron, Hermione, and Malone are about to enter the class before Zabini and Nott stand in its centre.

"Those things are really working on our nerves now," says Nott, while looking at the five girls seated with their newly created badges.

"Why not show support to Viktor Krum instead of Potter the cheater?" asks Zabini.

While looking at Harry, Pansy grips his arm. "Just ignore them before you get yourself in trouble. This ain't Moody nor Hagrid's areas to duel around now."

"I'm sorry but they're  _really_  starting to annoy me, all of them." Harry stands up then strides to the centre of the room. "How about you keep your ugly face to yourself and shut up, Nott?"

"I'll show you what's ugly, think you're so perfect, huh? Let's see Mister Ladies' Man talk his way out of this one." Nott takes aim at the fuming Harry before yelling,  _Densaugeo!_ "

 _"Protego, Petrificus Totalus!"_  shouts Harry, in retaliation.

Nott's spell is swiftly deflected to Harry's side before the Full Body-Bind Curse hits the former in the chest. But as Harry is about to insult the petrified Nott he hears Ron yelling from behind.

"You arsehole, Potter, look at what you've done to her!"

"What?" Harry spins around to glance in confusion as a whimpering Hermione's front teeth begins to grow at an alarming rate.

"Ha! Classic! Nice shield charm there, Potter, now it's two in one for us. Punishment for you and a shot to the Mudblood," laughs Zabini, before Snape soon steps into class.

"What is the meaning of all this?"

Harry spots Hermione trying to speak, but she finds it too great an effort with her front teeth having grown past her chin. She seems to be shaking her head in disagreement as Ron and Malone speak.

"Professor, Potter was fighting with Nott and Zabini!"

"Yeah, they were all going crazy on each other before Potter attacked Hermione, look!"

"I see no difference, really." Snape's insult has Hermione in tears before she runs out the class, presumably headed for the Hospital Wing. He then turns to glare at Harry. "Fighting with your own Housemates? Is being a  _glorious_  underage Champion not enough for you this year?"

Pansy and the girls swiftly stand up to defend Harry, who now gestures for them to sit back down. "Just leave it," he sighs towards them.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Weasley and Malone, for reporting the incident in raised voices. I will not tolerate students shouting at me. As for you, Potter, detention tomorrow."

Minutes later, the class on antidotes finally begins once everyone, except Hermione, have taken their seats. Then at some point during the lesson, hurried knocks sound on the door before Astoria Greengrass as well as Flora and Hestia Carrow enter the room. All three second years now seem rather excited as they urgently mention something to Snape.

"How many students does it take to deliver  _one_  message? Fine, Potter, you're needed elsewhere. Now get out of my sight."

"What's my little sister doing here?" asks a confused Daphne, before Harry's book, parchment and quill are packed up by Pansy.

"All the Champions are needed upstairs—" says Flora.

"—to take photographs and stuff," adds Hestia.

"Hurry up, hurry up!" Astoria walks over to grab Harry's packed bag from Pansy before leading him out the room.

With the twins beside him, and Astoria practically pushing him forward, Harry finds himself being questioned as they walk. From the dungeons all the way up to the entrance hall he repeatedly admits that he has no idea how he got into the Tournament. They soon reach a small classroom where Harry is left to enter while carrying his bag.

He spots most of the desks having been pushed to the back of the class, which frees up much space. Near the blackboard, three desks have been placed end-to-end beneath a long length of velvet. Ludo Bagman appears to be seated in one of the five chairs behind the velvet-covered desks. The magenta-coloured robes of Rita Skeeter quickly catches Harry's eye as she speaks to Bagman.

Meanwhile, Viktor Krum appears as glum as ever while in slight conversation with Angelina Johnson. Both Champions briefly glance at Harry, then at Alyssa standing across the room.

"I 'ave 'eard zat you are getting into many fights lately." Fleur approaches Harry while Alyssa walks beside her. Both Beauxbatons girls now in slight smiles.

"Almost everyone's got it in for me around here. I'd say it's pretty normal these days," replies Harry.

"Well I've been locked out of my room a few times. Had to call Madame Maxime to sort things out. Jealousy really makes people nasty, eh?" asks Alyssa, before Fleur adopts a smug look.

"She 'as been sharing my room ever since zen. Too scared to be around ze others at night."

"I'm not scared, just cautious because you never know what people might do. I mean, everyone was hoping to be a Champion. Then I just so happen to get a cheap way in," says Alyssa, to which Harry agrees all too well.

"Ah, Champion number four of five, here he is!" Bagman welcomes Harry to the wand-weighing ceremony. Though it may sound intimidating, Harry is told that its purpose is to mainly ensure the proper functioning of the Champions' wands for the Tournament ahead. Bagman then explains that the others will arrive soon and introduces Harry to Rita Skeeter.

"Oh we've already met, or have you not seen my piece on Sirius Black in June?" Rita turns to look from Bagman to Harry. "I know your type, Harry Potter. 'Mister Ladies Charmer', oh so he thinks..."

The look on Rita's face has Harry slightly intimidated, although he refuses to show it. "Nice to see you again too, Rita."

"I think I'll have a quick word with him, in private. No stranger to having females in a broom cupboard, Harry?"

"Wow, she's a real bitch," whispers Alyssa to Fleur.

"How about I stand right here and refuse your private interrogation?" Harry folds his arms and glances smugly at the slightly scowling Rita.

"Oh man, he's got fire in him indeed!" laughs Bagman, before keeping shut upon being glared at by Rita.

"Playing hard to get, eh? Or is the youngest Champion scared of a little publicity?" she asks tauntingly.

"I have enough publicity to last a lifetime. You'll need to convince me to share some of my precious time with you, Miss Skeeter." Harry's retort has Fleur stifling a laugh, before Rita nods slightly.

"Okay, have it your way then, Harry." She grins rather slyly before adding, "But I  _will_  get that interview at some point."

"Well, I guess I'll just have to be on the lookout for an older woman trying to yank me into an empty classroom, or broom cupboard."

Harry grins triumphantly before taking a seat near the door. As Fleur and Alyssa take their seats beside him, Harry looks up to see Madame Maxime, Mr Crouch, and Karkaroff now entering to sit down at the velvet-covered table. The third glancing around the room before giving a grunt of annoyance upon seeing the two extra Champions.

Soon, Krum and Angelina take their seats near the door as Dumbledore introduces the wand-maker, Mr. Ollivander, to be checking their wands during the ceremony. Finally, Rita Skeeter settles down in a corner while taking out her parchment and Quick-Quotes Quill from her bag.

Minutes later, each Champion is called up to have their wands inspected. Fleur goes first to have hers identified as containing a core made from a veela hair, courtesy of her grandmother. Ollivander notes that it's a rather temperamental wand, before he casts a spell to summon a bunch of flowers. All seems in order. A scowling Krum steps up next before Ollivander notes the wand having being designed by another maker, Gregorovitch. The hornbeam wood, and dragon heartstring core, wand passes Ollivander's examination as he summons a few little birds. Next up is Angelina whose wand elicits a smile from Ollivander. No doubt due to it having been made by him. Harry sighs from having to wait so long for his turn that he soon begins whispering in conversation with Fleur.

"Veela hair, eh? Granny's looking out for her little Delacour."

"You are so vairy funny," replies Fleur sarcastically. "I would like to 'ear what ze leetle 'Arry Potter 'as in 'is wand. Zen we will maybe 'ave a good laugh."

Alyssa goes up next and receives a slight smile from Ollivander. "One of the very few Parkinsons I've not supplied. Now let's see what we have here... ivy wood, hmm... not something I tend to use. Very good for those of perseverance, tenacity, and the ability to overcome many an obstacle in life. Ten and a half inches... seems unyielding... oddly enough, you hardly seem the stubborn type. As for the core... dragon heartstring, another one in the family. I recall your cousin having one too, though encased in ebony wood I believe?"

"Yes, sir. Ten inches, ebony with dragon heartstring," says Alyssa, clearly impressed by the wand-maker's memory.

"Now let's give this wand a test...  _Lumos_!" Ollivander lights up the tip of Alyssa's wand, before noting that all seems to be in order. " _Nox_. So that just leaves Mister Potter."

Turning to whisper to Fleur, Harry grins. "Your wand's pretty, but mine's just better."

"Pfft, zere are too many finger marks all over zat wand. Maybe try cleaning it for a change, dirty boy?"

Stifling a grin at Fleur's remark, Harry walks up to Ollivander with his wand in hand. "Here we go, sir."

"Ah yes indeed." Ollivander's eyes seem to gleam with excitement upon seeing this wand yet again. "How very well I remember this one... curious that you ended up in Slytherin too."

Harry's never felt the need to disclose the most confidential piece of information regarding his wand. Never has he told anyone that its core has come from the same phoenix which provided Tom Marvolo Riddle's wand core. But there are other phoenix core owners out there, which is why none can even try and guess the relation between Harry and Voldemort's wands.

"Eleven inches, supple... holly wood with a phoenix core."

The lack of disclosing the relation between the two phoenix wands comes as a relief to Harry. He now watches as Ollivander makes a jet of water shoot out before announcing that the wand remains in perfect condition. Dumbledore then thanks them all before stating that they might as well go for dinner. But he's soon reminded of the photo shoot session which now begins.

"Put Harry in front," insists Rita, even though the photographer seems keen on capturing Fleur as much as possible.

"I want them next to me," argues Harry, before having Alyssa and Fleur sit beside him. Krum seems to prefer being  to the side, while Angelina puts herself behind Harry, since she's taller. Then comes the officials as Madame Maxime has to sit to fit into the photos while Dumbledore simply smiles at the camera. Karkaroff appears as arrogant as ever as he twirls his beard for the shots while trying to get Krum to step forward.

"Individual shots now. We'll start with the Quidditch star, this one I mean." Rita pulls Harry aside first. Although it brings him a slight bit of smugness to see Krum—and Angelina—so openly snubbed, Harry reckons that Rita's being deliberate. By the time the lengthy photo session finally ends, Harry exits the room while walking beside Fleur. Then he suddenly stops before excusing himself to head up to the Hospital Wing. Unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey stops him right at the door.

"I'm sorry, Mister Potter, but Miss Granger has specifically asked for no visitors. I've heard that you've had a hand in things here?"

Harry tries his best to explain that it wasn't directly his fault, even if the spell deflected off his shield before hitting Hermione. "Well, do tell her that I'm really, really, really sorry. Haven't spoken to her since... I can't even remember!" Feeling rather disappointed in himself, he returns to the Great Hall to sit beside Fleur. Her presence and smile now immediately raising Harry's spirits once more as he eats.

"Impresseeve, but ze veela is still more beautiful zan ze phoenix, 'Arry Potter," says Fleur cheekily, as the group continues to eat.

"Phoenixes are powerful and can come back from the dead, beat that." Harry grins before shoving a spoonful of soup in his mouth.

"Would you rar-zer look at a phoenix or a veela, 'mm?"

"Oh I can look at this veela-girl all night long—OW!" Harry groans upon being kicked beneath the table.

"Vairy good kick, leetle Parkinson," says Fleur, eliciting a smile from Pansy as the evening moves on.

Later, after bidding Fleur and Alyssa goodnight, Harry returns to the common room. The surprise of him being in the girls' dormitory has pretty much worn off for most now. But his former roommates, particularly Nott and Zabini, remain calling him a coward. From 8pm until midnight, Harry decides to revise some work for Charms and Potions with the girls.

 


	18. Final Preparations Before The First Task

With merely ten days to go until the First Task, Harry remains as clueless as ever about it. From duelling to some highly strenuous Olympic games, he experiences some rather strange dreams from the building anxiety. Upon waking up, Harry cracks a joke about the Tournament being a game of football. Only Pansy, and to some extent Tracey, truly laugh at the Muggle humour though.

As expected, over half of Slytherin House appears to be wearing  _Support Harry Potter_  badges now as the weekend carries on. Their displays of support does enough to keep Harry in good spirits even through Snape's detention, and well into the following week. But his nervousness begins to show, especially from the lack of his usual witty banter with those around him.

Harry's ignorance of the First Task has him still preparing as if it's to be a massive duel. This means more fun for the lower years as he ends up having them fling all manner of spells at his shield charm. Both parties end up benefitting, as Harry works on his barriers while the youngsters practice their Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts homework.

As the final week before the First Task moves on, each of the Champions seem to be sporting the same bit of anticipation. Harry notes that he still hasn't communicated with any of the Gryffindors yet. They've certainly taken to outright showing their support for Angelina as more badges pop up around the school. He reckons it may be the Weasley twins' doing for the simple, yet eye-catching,  _Support Angelina Johnson_  badges in red. These seem to outright trump the amount of  _Support Harry Potter_ ones going around, since only his fellow Slytherins seem to wear them.

"Zis school seems more like a political battle zan anyzing else," admits Fleur, while sitting beside Harry on Wednesday afternoon. The pair have now taken to sitting in a corner of the Middle Courtyard.

"It's always been like this. You're just seeing it at its best because it's now technically Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Johnson against Potter," says Harry, whose tone of voice has Fleur glancing at him.

"I can 'ear zat you are very much stressed over ze upcoming task. No more vairy funny 'Arry Potter, now it is more like a terreefied young man."

Ignoring the many passing students eyeing them suspiciously, Harry turns to sigh at Fleur. "No use trying to act super laid back anymore. I take it we've all been doing our practice, and yet nobody's sure about the task. Can't believe that it's just six days to go until... whatever comes."

A brief bit of silence between the two has them simply sitting in the slight afternoon breeze. The chatter of many excited students fill the courtyard while Harry remains fiddling with his fingers. Then, Fleur picks up a nearby twig and begins drawing in the bit of sand between them.

"Let us see ze leetle Slyzerin man use 'is brain. Oh but my drawing is not always so good..." She groans slightly—which Harry still finds adorable—while etching out a shape in the ground.

"What the heck is that? Some kind of mutated bat or something?"

Fleur gives him a look that so reminds Harry of Hermione's angry glare. "Ugh, ze legs are too small 'ere and let me fix ze arms..." She lengthens the legs and draws discernible arms on whatever creature this happens to be.

"Very funny, but I don't think snakes have wings, Fleur. Cute drawing though."

After repeatedly poking Harry with the twig against his cheek, Fleur frowns before scribbling at her drawing's mouth.

"Snakes do not 'ave arms and legs like zis, silly 'Arry." She tilts her head and gives a sarcastic smile before continuing with her scribbling patterns.

"Okay, that looks like a flying chameleon... thing... which is vomiting."

"For 'Eaven's Sake!  _Incendio_."

"You trying to burn my nuts!?" Harry swiftly moves to the side as Fleur sets part of her sand drawing alight.

"It looks like rubbish but take a moment and zink. What looks like zis and breathes ze fire and goes  _ROOOAR_?" Fleur slightly coughs after her attempted roar. "And zat is not vomit, it is fire, zat is why I casted ze flames spell now on it. So what do you zink I am trying to tell you, leetle 'Arry?"

"A dragon?"

"What about eet?"

Seconds later, after pausing for some thought, Harry gasps before turning to look at the smiling Fleur. "No way."

"Madame Maxime got your 'Agrid friend to show her ze dragons 'idden in ze forest last night. She 'ad to do it quickly because both Alyssa and I needed to know what is coming. Ze finer details are missing but eet sounds like we each will be getting a different dragon to face. From what Madame Maxime 'as figured out, we will be needing to get past a nesting muzzer to get one of 'er eggs, yes."

In mere seconds, Harry feels as if the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders. Such is the sense of relief at finally knowing what's to come that he leaps to the side. Even though part of his robes have now caught a bit of fire, he grabs Fleur into a tight hug.

"Seelly boy." Fleur non-verbally extinguishes the flames before laughing as Harry plants a firm kiss on her cheek. " _Merde_!"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" He gives her a second kiss before standing up. "Darn beautiful, tremendous lifesaver that you are!"

"I could be lying, you know. What eef I was trying to give you ze wrong information? Zis could seeriously affect your performance in ze Tournament. Would be to my advantage."

"Well then I guess I'll just have to trust you now. Better to have some clue than sucking something out of my thumb."

Fleur smiles rather mischievously before standing up to look at him. "You must know 'ow to  _suck_ , yes? And I am not talking about being bad at something."

"Oh you did not just make such a joke, Fleur Delacour. No you didn't." Harry laughs in disbelief. "So there is someone naughty in here after all."

"Jokes out ze way, what are your ideas for deeling with ze dragon?" she asks, while hurriedly looking around to check for eavesdroppers.

"Why do you ask? You're a talented older student who can probably handle themselves."

"I am asking for Alyssa because I am worried about 'er. She 'as made no effort to zink up anyzing since last night. Forever reading magazines, newspapers or gossiping wiz 'er cousin. Speaking of 'oom, I zink your Pansy friend should now be knowing about ze dragon task."

"She's really not preparing?"

"I promise you very much zat, yes. She does not seem to care much about being a Champion. I always said she is lazy."

Harry now checks his watch. "Lemme see... half past three. That gives us an hour and a half until dinner usually starts. I'm gonna go talk to my Defence teacher about this. How about we three meet up after dinner on the Quidditch pitch? I have an idea that might help Alyssa, or you, out."

"You do not 'ave to worry about me, I am already finished planning what I am going to do to get past ze dragon. And you can stop zanking me, because I know you want to say it." Fleur appears smug as she pats Harry on the cheeks, before the latter heads off towards where he hopes Moody to be.

"Should've brought the Map with," he sighs, while racing up the grand staircase towards the second floor corridor. Upon reaching Moody's office there seems to be nobody home, as the door remains locked. Then, Harry decides to head up to the third floor where he spots Moody headed for the grand staircase.

"Professor!"

"Potter?" Moody turns around, takes a drink from his flask, then hears Harry hurriedly—and rather quietly—explain what he's been told. "Well, hopefully that lass isn't trying to deceive you. But it's better than nothing. Alright, too exposed out here, let's talk in class."

As ordered, Harry goes ahead to enter Classroom 3C before Moody soon arrives. After the latter casts a few anti-eavesdropping charms, he has Harry sit down as they discuss this new bit of information.

"I don't really show favouritism, me, but I'll give you some advice. It's a bloody good thing we practiced that shield charm over and over and over again. Care to guess why?" asks Moody, while standing before the front desk facing Harry.

"Well it's not a duel after all so no point in trying to deflect spells..."

"Use your brain, Potter.  _Protego_  can also be useful against physical harm, although it takes quite a bit of effort. What's the biggest danger when facing a dragon? Besides the dragon itself?"

"No doubt its breath of fire, I recall Charlie Weasley mentioning some dragons able to do up to forty feet in one shot. That was last year when we stayed at the Burrow, the Weasleys' home."

"Funny you should mention that Charlie. Because now I'm starting to wonder if the Gryffindor Champion already knows about the dragons. Would make sense if Ronald Weasley, or the twins, found out and then told Johnson."

"I wonder if Krum knows about them too?"

"Karkaroff's a sly bastard indeed," says Moody angrily. "I've no doubt he'll have, or still will, stumble into the forest 'by chance' and manage to get some clue. I'd bet he's twice as determined since Durmstrang only has one Champion here."

"So every one of us probably knows about the task."

"Cheating's a traditional part of the Tournament anyway, been done so many times centuries back. Just don't go violating obvious rules such as bringing your stuff with. Remember: you're only allowed your wand as an asset for this task. But that's not to say you can't use it to get creative now, eh?" Moody's words only reflect the ideas already forming in Harry's mind.

"Might as well make use of whatever we can from classes. But as for me, I reckon we ought to push for two more sessions before the task," says Harry, eliciting a nod of approval from Moody.

"If you're thinking about going in brute force, well, dragon hides are one of the toughest to penetrate. You should play to your strengths and rather aim for the eyes or mouth, best chances there. Now I won't bother trying to cram in offensive spells. I've already seen you duel and know you well enough to guess you've got a decent arsenal for a fourth-year."

"Well, yeah, I have been practicing with my girls on occasion. It really helps to have five supportive ones."

"Ha!" Moody slaps the desk while laughing. "Good on you then, laddie. Now, try not to get burned because we'll add more fiery spells against your shield charm in our sessions. Speaking of which, let's do Thursday evening but also... hmm..."

"I can skip the Hogsmeade trip on Saturday. Perfect opportunity to prepare."

"Very well then."

As the day moves on, Harry decides to head for an earlier dinner around 4:30 pm. He is soon joined by the rest of his Slytherin friends as they sit around and very quietly discuss the first task.

"You need to speak some sense into my cousin. She's had the  _brilliant_  idea of deliberately failing it, and hopefully using that as a means to bail on the Tournament. But that's not how it works, you can't just quit once the Goblet's chosen you," whispers Pansy, before Harry nods.

"I thought she'd try something like that. Doesn't seem the adventurous type at all."

To decrease suspicion towards them, Harry remains at the Slytherin table while Fleur and Alyssa sit fairly apart back at the Ravenclaw one. For the rest of the school it appears as if they are avoiding each other before the first task. But after dinner, once Harry's found out that nobody's practicing, they converge upon the Quidditch pitch.

At 5:30pm, under cover of darkness, Harry, Alyssa, and Fleur now stand in the Slytherin Quidditch locker room. Pansy, Tracey, and Daphne have taken to keeping watch around the stands and at the stadium's entrance.

"Oh my, 'as 'Arry brought us 'ere to"—Fleur softly laughs—"ride his broomsteek?"

"This is no time for jokes. Now, Alyssa, I've heard about your silly plan to get out of the Tournament and it sure as hell isn't going to work," says Harry, as they sit upon the benches.

"Well I'm just not in the mood to prowl through the library searching for some way to beat a dragon. Even Krum's been there an awful lot of times recently. I just wanna kick back and relax, as I'm entitled to do."

"But you are so vairy lazy! Zat is dangerous be'aviour going against a dragon. What if you got killed?"

The remark has Alyssa laughing. "Oh please, it doesn't take much of a brain to figure out there's a hell of a lot more safety precautions this time. Centuries ago the Tournaments were crazy, but I'm pretty sure there should be dragon handlers or whatever out here to help us now. But let's hear Mister Genius Potter's idea then."

"Why not use a Summoning Charm to, well, summon my Firebolt? You can fly, right?" asks Harry.

"Uh, well, sort of. I'm more of a Charms girl though."

"'Sort of' isn't going to cut it against a friggin dragon, Alyssa. Think about Pansy! She's hoping to have you do well here so give her something to cheer about."

"Well I am evidently going to win zis Tournament in ze end but yes, you do need to work 'arder, Alyssa."

"Fleur, can you fly?" asks Harry, to which she gives him a tight-lipped smile.

"I told you back at ze World Cup zat I can fly a broom okay. Ugh, zis girl is so dead if we do not 'elp 'er. Fine!" Fleur smacks her hand on the bench. "I will try and show you ze sleeping spell I was going to use on ze dragon, since you are fairly good with Charms, Alyssa."

"But what about you, Fleur?" asks Harry.

"Might as well use zat strategy of summoning ze Firebolt and evading ze dragon. Eet will evidently show ze spectators zat we were 'elping each uzzer, but 'oo cares?"

Alyssa sighs before speaking. "I guess I have a backup plan as well, in case things go wrong." She draws her wand before casting.  _"Expecto Patronum!"_

A fairly large crow bursts forth from her wand to fly around the room. It swoops down low before deciding to sit upon Harry's shoulder.

"Whoa, and here I thought I was the only one with a corporeal Patronus!" he says, while clearly impressed.

"So if Fleur's little trick she teaches me fails, then it's up to my crow to distract the dragon long enough for me to run like bloody hell," says Alyssa. "Hopefully a shining bird might catch its attention."

"See? You can zink if you actually put some effort into eet. But let me start teaching you see spell before you become fried chicken in front of ze dragon next week."

"Man, don't you just love cheating in the Tournament? Heck yes, let's all help each other out. Screw Johnson and Krum! Now, Fleur, let's see you do some flying outside."

Every few minutes, Harry and Alyssa send up their  _Lumos Maxima_ spells to provide just enough light to see Fleur flying about. Although she's by no means as adept in the air as Harry, this gives him enough to work with. The next two hours are now spent with each Champion trying to assist the other, until the entire group, except Fleur and Alyssa, hurries back to the castle before 8pm.

Thursday pretty much zips by for Harry who spends much of the evening trying with all his might not to get burned. Moody constantly fires off all manner of incendiary spells at his barrier, which the Professor notes has certainly seen improvement. The evening's practice serves to take his mind off the earlier double Divination period in which Harry's heard a variety of tragic predictions from Trelawney.

With a double free period until lunch on Friday morning, Harry meets up with Fleur and Alyssa. It certainly helps that they happen to be free just before lunch. While sitting in an empty classroom, he soon finds himself being made to test the sleeping spell which Alyssa's been taught.

"I've got a brilliant idea. The dragon's not gonna be standing still. So, Fleur, how about you tickle Harry and make him go nuts while I try and put him to sleep?"

"Wha—"

"Wiz pleasure."

"Oh my God, no, hahahahaha! Geroff me! Fleur, stop it, oh man, lucky I used the bathroom earlier... AHAHAHA!" Harry finds himself subjected to much tickling from the amused Fleur as he sits in a desk. She leans to tickle him on his sides, neck, wherever she can while Alyssa begins casting the sleeping charm.

"I zink eet is working, 'e is putting up less of a fight now," says Fleur, before Harry eventually slumps back, onto her lap, while fast asleep. "Like a leetle baby."

He later awakes as the spell is removed by Alyssa. "Well, that worked indeed. Please try not to tickle me again."

"You are so ticklish, Monsieur Potter, it was vairy fun. I would say Alyssa and I are fairly well prepared for ze task ahead. Now what about you?"

"I just hope I get an easy dragon to fight."

Alyssa scoffs. "Still adamant on brute force, eh? Well don't blame me if you get killed in this Tournament. Hey, I'm getting an even better idea here..."

"Let us 'ear it zen."

"What do you suppose the order of us being called might be? Look, if we go out near each other then why not try and lend a hand? Fleur, you're the one who's gonna summon the broom. So if you don't go last then maybe... I dunno... leave it somewhere in the arena?"

"Well zat would depend on what ze arena would look like. If it is very much open and flat zen it would not work. But some place zat is uneven might make it easier to stash ze Firebolt after I win."

"Alyssa's idea is worth a try, even though the officials might spot and remove the broom before the next Champion."

"We shall improvise!" declares Alyssa. "But really, thanks for the ideas and help. Very much appreciated from you both. And here I thought the cocky Slytherin would steal all the glory."

"Hey, I don't want any of you people getting battered out there next week," says Harry, while standing up from the desk.

"When are you going to speak to your Gryffindor friends again, 'Arry? I 'ave seen ze Granger girl looking your way many times. I zink she might be liking you."

"Let them have their Champion, I couldn't be bothered. Got far more important things to worry about now."

The closer it gets to Tuesday, the greater Harry's sense of urgency becomes. On Friday afternoon, as the Slytherins arrive first for Potions, Pansy suddenly whispers to Harry.

"Why not brew a potion to help you next week? We can practice summoning charms some more then you can get it into wherever the task's taking place."

"Sounds fair enough, but I'll be needing ingredients anyway. Also, I could end up summoning it wrong and have it smash all over the place. Hey, wait a minute..."

With the Gryffindors, and Snape, yet to arrive, Pansy leans closer over the workstation. "Then cast  _Dura_  over the bottle. Although if you summon it totally wrong even stone can smash. Risky business."

"I just thought about using my House Elf now! Isn't that a brilliant idea? I mean, Dobby pretty much ignores the enchantments around Hogwarts anyway." Harry smiles smugly with his idea, although Pansy shakes her head.

"You're only allowed to use your wand, I'm afraid. Using an elf would breach the rules before all the spectators. You might lose points or, even worse, be disqualified."

"Alright, but like Fleur once told me that depends on how the place looks. Somewhere uneven might give me time to hide and summon Dobby with the potion."

"Harry." Pansy sighs before continuing. "It'll be pretty obvious depending on what potion you take. Hide somewhere, then emerge with added effects? You're gonna have to rely on summoning it with your wand. And even then, you shouldn't brew anything too specific. Remember, you're not supposed to even know you're going up against a dragon."

A moment's silence is followed by a groan on Harry's part. "Fine then. Let's see now... fire-proof potion? Far too obvious. Gotta be something relatively easy to brew, because I don't wanna rely too much on taking a potion to help."

"Yeah, good idea. If you make your whole strategy rely on a potion then it could backfire badly. Maybe just have it as something extra."

The Gryffindors soon arrive as the class settles in. Then, Professor Snape begins the continuation of their antidotes lessons. When the bell sounds to signal the final class of today, the fourth years remain seated for their second session. By the lesson's end, Harry remains seated with Pansy and the girls to avoid the rest of the class. Hermione, however, makes it a point to stand at the door with her arms folded.

"I'm not giving any Gryffindor, even her, any information that might help Johnson," says Harry, before standing up and walking behind the five girls.

"Take your arguments somewhere else," insists Snape, as the girls begin shooing away Hermione. Meanwhile, Harry turns to ask if he can use any of the classroom ingredients for a Girding Potion. The response from Snape comes as expected. "I cannot offer you any help with regards to the Triwizard Tournament. You'll just have to make use of your own ingredients then,  _Champion._ "

"But please, sir. I don't have the proper stuff."

"Well that's just too bad then. I'm sure a Champion can come up with a  _brilliant_  plan in handling whatever is to come."

Feeling rather dejected, Harry exits the class before shutting the door to find Pansy standing face-to-face with Hermione.

"Oh now you want to help him, huh? Get lost, Granger."

"Harry, I've got an idea—"

Snape's vehement rejection puts Harry in such an unexpectedly bad mood that he glares at Hermione. "I don't need a Gryffindor's help, thanks. Go support Angelina Johnson like those stupid badges you all wear."

"Don't be a fool, now's not the time for tha—" Hermione's words are cut off as Millicent stands before her. Although the latter's noticeably less bulky than before, she's still an intimidating girl indeed.

"He said 'get lost', in case your brain's too advanced for us all. What? Gonna polyjuice your way into our common room again?"

But Hermione remains persistent, while looking around Millicent. "Angelina knows about the first task because Fred and George found out from Charlie, who also told Ron—"

"Well you can tell Ronald to piss off. I don't need any of your people's help! It's bad enough that I can't even ask my own Head of House for assistance. Go support your fancy lion Champ, Hermione." Harry sighs in exasperation before walking away with his girls. They soon enter the common room, where Pansy laughs.

"Way to stick it to the Mud"—Harry's expression causes her to hesitate—"Muggleborn."

"Why did it have to be a bloody Gryffindor Champion? I can't even talk to any of them without fear of tips possibly slipping through to Johnson," admits Harry, after plonking himself onto a black leather couch.

Daphne soon giggles before speaking. "No offence, but I dunno which Slytherin ended up acting more like a girl with mood swings just now. One minute Professor Snape's kinda helpful towards you, then the next he's all hostile. Harry, you were the same now with Granger. Ha, I think you're growing up to be a future Snape."

"What? Oh, gross!" Harry makes a pretend gesture of vomiting on the floor. "There's nothing similar between us really."

Tracey soon nods. "Harry's with girls, even Granger. Like Snape's ever had some sort of love life, ha! Can you imagine?"

"No thanks, change topic please," says Sally-Anne.

The final Saturday before the First Task sees Harry staying in the castle. Meanwhile, most of the third years and up have decided upon heading to Hogsmeade. These include the foreign students, and Harry can't help but wish he could be in Fleur's company right now. But he's set his priorities in order as he heads to Classroom 3C, for yet another defensive session with Moody.

"Last one before the task. Let's see those barriers, Potter." Moody nonverbally lets loose a few incendiary-type attacks which Harry manages to block and deflect. "Don't get any ideas, I doubt dragon fire will deflect like these spells do."

Before he can get too smug, Harry finds even his best shield charm being broken once Moody steps things up. He takes it in stride, however, since this is a veteran Auror anyway. After picking himself up from being hit by an unexpected—and sudden—knockback jinx, Harry continues to try and withstand as much fiery spells as possible. Every so often his barrier breaks before he has to double back to avoid the resulting flames.

"Now you're doing much better than when we first started, Potter. However, don't expect me to spoon-feed you too much. As a Champion you've still got to improvise and be vigilant on your own. That's why I haven't revised much more than the shield charm. It's up to you to see what else you can learn, but don't overestimate your talents now. Ugh, all this fire and talking's making me thirsty." Moody swiftly withdraws his flask before taking a few swigs.

After finishing lunch, and receiving a letter from Sirius, Harry decides to check the library for some additional spells.  _Aguamenti_  catches his eye in a sixth year book, but as soon as he considers learning it he stops.

"A very good, but still bad, idea, Harry," says Hermione, who seems to have taken a break from Hogsmeade. "That's obviously a spell well out of our current curriculum. So, I'm guessing you know about the first task?"

"Don't talk to me. I didn't need your help to find out about the big, bad, you-know-whats I'm about to face on Tuesday."

Ignoring Harry's attempted shooing away, Hermione pulls up a chair and sits beside him. "Just like first and second year again. I'm not going anywhere no matter how much you try and get rid of me."

"Hmph, go support Johnson instead. Isn't she the  _real_  Hogwarts Champion, as I've heard so many of this school declare?" Harry moves his chair away from Hermione's. But she moves towards him before replying:

"So, if you just happen to use an advanced water spell this Tuesday it'll be a clear sign that you knew about the task."

"Go away, Hermione."

"I wanted to suggest using a summoning charm on your broom. That Firebolt ought to give the dragon a run for its money."

"Go support your Champion!"

"That's what I'm doing." She gives him a smile of defiance that lets Harry know that she's not about to leave anytime soon. "Besides, I think it'd be a shame if you died in the first task."

"I appreciate your concern but I don't want Johnson overhearing my ideas. You might just chat with Ronald and that's all it'd take. Thank you but I've gotta go." Harry packs his stuff before swiftly getting up.

"Now you're just being unreasonable. Set your mood swings aside and take my advice."

"Things are already sorted on our end. But you're welcome to go back to your Gryffindor table and keep glaring at me. Everyone else there seems to be hating on me anyway. Oh, I'm sorry to have been smuggled into this Tournament somehow. I didn't mean to steal Gryffindor's chance at glory."

"Harry James Potter, sit down and stop acting like a little child. Ginny and I are worried almost sick—" Hermione barely finishes her sentence before Harry's already walked off. He soon exits the library and decides to spend the rest of the day in the common room. While sitting at a table, he reads up on the theory of whatever spells he plans on using this coming Tuesday.

Sunday sees Harry noticing more prominent displays of badges across the school. Whether for him or Angelina, many students take it upon themselves to show their support. But as usual, nearly everyone seems to be cheering for the Gryffindor Chaser. Harry also ensures that he avoids his former roommates and whichever other Slytherin seems to be in support of Krum.

Much of the day is soon spent in the fresh air of the castle's grounds with his five girls. Not only do they happily engage him in many a duel, but also keep watch for unwanted faces as the group of six spend their time near the Great Lake.

"You are really stressed out about Sunday, eh?" asks Tracey, as the day moves on rather steadily for them all.

What feels like seconds after putting his head down on the pillow, Harry awakes to Monday morning. No more keeping to his little group of girls all day long, as he knows that there'll be shared classes with Ravenclaw and Gryffindor today. History of Magic passes by with Harry receiving various looks from the students, in return he shows the occasional middle finger. Then comes Care of Magical Creatures. From the moment they arrive at class, the Slytherins find themselves being watched by the Gryffindor group. For it's not common to see the House of silver and green bickering amongst each other.

"We'll be getting out the tissues tomorrow, Potter. Remind us to ask the Baron to quit if we need a new House ghost," says Nott mockingly.

"No, we need the Baron to scare off Peeves. Potter's no good for that at all," replies a laughing Zabini. Meanwhile, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle simply stand to the side. They seem to be more annoyed with this class than bothering to be insulting.

Even Hagrid's usually cheerful disposition seems to have been shaken a fair bit. Once again, he organises the class in manner that allows him to chat privately with Harry. The latter whispering that he already knows what's to come, courtesy of the Beauxbatons girls.

"Professor Dumbledore woulda liked tha'. 'Inter-school cooperation' as he'd say. But, uh, don't go tellin' everyone abou' yeh three helpin' each other, alright?"

Harry nods, and immediately Hagrid's demeanour seems to lighten up. The notion of Harry being prepared seems to have brought a great bit of relief to Hagrid, who happily conducts the remainder of the lesson. Next comes Charms where he is wished good luck for tomorrow by Flitwick.

Monday's dinner proves to be one of the most uncomfortable ones he's yet had. While forcing himself to eat, and Pansy shoving food in his mouth too, Harry manages to get in half a plate. What does cheer him up is a letter dumped right beside his plate by a barn owl.

_"Dear Harry_

_Sirius didn't (totally) force me to write this letter so I would like to wish you good luck for tomorrow. I know Professor Moody's a good teacher (I hope) and that you are adequately prepared for whatever is to come (I really do hope)._

_So I've done a bit of checking the you-know-what charts and found that it's rather safe for me to attend tomorrow. I (and Sirius) will be cheering for you, so do put on a good show for us all. Although I must admit that I'd like to see Gryffindor come first, I suppose you'll just have to disappoint me on that regard._

_So yeah, let's see how much little James has changed since not being allowed to face the boggart in class. I do hope to find a seat as far away from Professor Snape as possible though._

_Regards_

_Ex-Professor R. J. Lupin_

_- >PS: From Sirius: I did force (and bribe) him to write this letter.<-"_

Beaming with joy, Harry immediately starts stuffing himself at the table. Having both of his father's old friends in the crowd tomorrow certainly seems to relieve some of the building anxiety.

"Sleep time!" he declares, after getting up from the table.

"It's only 6pm," replies Daphne. "You're mental."

"A Champion needs his many hours of sleep. Let's go, girls." Pansy has them all stand up and lead Harry back to the common room. Here he freshens up before climbing into bed, hopefully ready to face the First Task tomorrow.

 


	19. The First of Three

_Tuesday, November 24th, 1994._

The day of the First Task has arrived, and Harry awakes to practically royal treatment this morning. From the dorm all the way to the breakfast table, students (usually youngsters) offer to do even the tiniest of things for him. His golden breakfast plate seemingly fills itself from the way those around him pile on the food.

Meanwhile, the entire school seems absolutely abuzz with tension and excitement, for none besides the Champions and staff know about the task itself. All eyes dart from Champion to Champion in the Great Hall as students openly discuss the event scheduled for midday today. But there are still two classes to go before then, and for Harry it just so happens to be double Defence Against the Dark Arts.

The first class practically races by as Moody resumes his lessons on counter-curses. Then the second class becomes a series of blah-blahs for Harry, whose mind remains completely focused on the task after lunch. He even fails to notice Moody's remark with regards to his clearly distracted look now.

"Nobody else but Potter has an excuse to daydream in this class. Now listen!"

What feels like minutes later soon sees Harry walking into lunch. From the moment he steps foot into the Great Hall, he already spots everyone looking at him. A portion of his table remains pro-Krum, and they scoff at Harry as he walks past. But to his right, the Ravenclaws appear to support Angelina, while the Beauxbatons group seems more on Fleur's side. Deciding to be a bit of a show-off, Harry walks over to the Ravenclaw table (much to their surprise) then first approaches Fleur.

"Good luck today," he says, before grabbing to kiss the top of her hand. This causes an uproar from mainly the male Beauxbatons students, who accuse him of playing 'filthy mind-games'. Uncaring for their reaction, Harry then walks to shake Alyssa's hand.

"Haha, look at little P eyeing you so closely now. Bet she's wondering if you'll be kissing my hand too," says Alyssa. In response, Harry deliberately glances over his shoulder at Pansy before doing just that.

After hearing a variety of —possibly insulting— French words from Alyssa's male classmates, Harry finally retreats from the Ravenclaw table. Then, as he returns to his seat, he briefly glances towards the Gryffindors. Some of them happen to be looking his way and sniggering, while others (such as Ginny and Hermione) appear truly concerned.

"Hmph, what about my hand?" asks Pansy, as Harry takes a seat before deciding to kiss hers too. "That's a good, well-mannered, Champion."

But other than his table, nobody else comes to wish Harry good luck. This is in stark contrast to Angelina who is all but surrounded by Hogwarts students. Harry even spots an enthusiastic Cedric Diggory shaking the blushing Angelina's hand fervently. This, however, seems to briefly sour the twins' mood, particularly Fred who decides to angrily focus upon his meal instead.

After eventually finishing his plate of food, Harry spots familiar black robes in the corner of his eye.

"Potter, time to leave," says Snape, who grabs him by the arm. As the pair walk away towards the double doors, many a Slytherin declares that Harry will be 'fine' and will 'do well'. Soon, Snape wordlessly takes him all the way out into the grounds before leading him to the forbidden forest.

A tent appears to have been erected somewhere past a few trees into the forest. But before Harry enters, he spends a good few minutes standing in a most awkward silence. Neither he nor Snape appears to know what to say, as they simply stand looking at one another. Meanwhile, the rest of the Champions walk past to enter the tent. After what feels like an awkward few minutes for Harry, Snape finally speaks. His voice swift and slightly different from the usual malice.

"Try not to die out there, Potter. Wouldn't look very good for Slytherin, especially with that attire on."

Harry almost forgets that he's wearing some rather nifty-looking robes made especially for today. Last night, Daphne and the rest had taken the Triwizard robes issued to him for the First Task and worked together with the older girls. The result is Harry's now emerald-and-black themed attire sporting a silvery serpent on its back.

"Yeah, I hope to make it out of this alive and finish my Potions essay later."

A slight twitch appears on Snape's face before he turns around to join up with the rest of the staff. This leaves Harry to enter the tent alone, where he spots a variety of people present.

Angelina paces up and down along one side of the tent while Krum simply looks even surlier than usual. Alyssa and Fleur seem to be sitting on low wooden stools, their expressions conveying the same sense of worry and stress.

"Harry! Good-o, look at you and those Slytherin robes. Looking mighty presentable there I must say," laughs Ludo Bagman, as he welcomes him into the tent. Bagman then vaguely explains the Champions' task of needing to collect a 'golden egg', though they each first need to select from a wide variety of miniature models in a bag.

Crowds of students can now be heard passing by the tent, their voices filled with laughter, excitement, and jokes. But although some small part of Harry would like to join them, he feels more proud to be here than anywhere else. While Bagman gets the bag of miniature models ready, Harry walks over to sit with Fleur and Alyssa. The gesture immediately has Angelina looking straight at him from her end of the tent.

"Would you give it a rest already? I'm pretty sure they're trying to focus on whatever's to come."

Without retaliating, Harry decides to stand up but is swiftly grabbed around the arm by Fleur.

"Be quiet, 'e will sit right 'ere whether you like it or not. 'Ow rude of you, as a 'Ogwarts Champion too, to 'ave outright ignored your own comrade."

"Excuse me? I'm not the one who started this whole badge business and making it seem as if Slytherin's going for the win. In case you haven't noticed, Miss Delacour, I'm garnering the support from other Houses too. For this entire school," replies Angelina, while putting her hands on her hips.

Alyssa adds her say before Harry can even speak. "People will always be hating on Slytherin House. I'd have probably been in there too, had I came to Hogwarts. Now how about we all just settle down and worry about ourselves. You alright, Harry?"

"Yeah, thanks." He smiles before Angelina shakes her head as the group of five are told to gather around. Next, Bagman has them each reach out to select whatever's in the purple silk sack.

Angelina reaches in first and withdraws a miniature Romanian Longhorn. The dark-green model dragon appears fairly bulky, and with noticeable horns on its head. There also happens to be a number two around its neck.

"Excellent, Miss Johnson, that means you're going second. Next please?" Bagman looks at Krum as the latter reaches in to withdraw a bluish-gray Swedish Short-Snout. It sports a number one around its neck.

"Probably the shortest one of the lot here. How fortunate to go first," says Bagman, and Krum flashes a slight smile of relief, though quickly masking his expression once more. "Next?"

Fleur reaches to withdraw a scarlet Chinese Fireball dragon. Number four can be seen around its neck. "Oh, there's a reason they have 'fireball' in their name you know. Uh, anyway. Next up?"

Alyssa now reaches into the bag to withdraw a Welsh Green model dragon. Number three can be seen around its neck. "Not bad at all, you'll be third, after Miss Johnson," says Bagman. He then turns to look rather worriedly at Harry. "This means you're going last, Harry Potter, and what a way to end today's event..."

"Because it's me we're talking about, I always tend to get the worst luck. Harry reaches into the bag and withdraws a dragon that has the rest of the Champions glancing his way. "What's this thing, Mr. Bagman?"

"Oh boy, that there is the mighty Hungarian Horntail..."

"Well, what else can we all expect for Harry Potter?" sighs Harry, who stares slightly worriedly at the model dragon baring its little fangs at him.

"Well, that's that! I'll need to leave you all here since I'm commentating. Uh, Harry, could I have a quick word outside?"

"Sure." Harry lets Bagman walk him out a short distance into the trees, away from the tent. Though initially holding loud, meaningless conversation, Bagman soon lowers his voice before looking at Harry.

"You're definitely the underdog here. I don't mind sharing a few pointers with you."

There is now a feeling within Harry which tries to stubbornly refuse the help. It makes him feel like an emboldened, brave warrior that needs not cheat any further. A sense of chivalry now begins to build up, urging him not to rely on such cunningly sly assistance.

"Yeah sure, let's hear it." He cares little about morality, and more about getting as much an advantage as possible.

"What's your plan?" asks Bagman.

"Well I wasn't expecting a Horntail! Thought I might fight my way to the egg."

After whistling in disbelief, Bagman shakes his head. "Too late to change now I guess. Here's some things I've observed while the dragons were being tested in the enclosure: This Horntail's able to breathe fire up to a maximum of forty feet, twice the distance of the other dragons here today. And it tends to exhale up to about four seconds. Watch out for its spiky tail, that thing's just as dangerous as facing it head-on. But most importantly let me warn you about the chains."

"Sounds important, I guess."

"It certainly is! None of the other dragons have placed such a strain on their restraints. This one looks like it's capable of overpowering and bursting free at any moment. There are dragon handlers on hand to assist but only if absolutely necessary, or if you forfeit. Be on your guard, you hear? Use whatever advantage you can get," says Bagman.

"Thanks a bunch. If I make it out of this alive I suppose I'll owe you...say... 50 Galleons?"

"Make it 80 and I'll give you one of the best tips ever."

"Alright then," says Harry.

"Great Scott! That's what I'm talking about," Bagman has to forcibly stop himself from smiling too much. "I'm sure you know about the eyes and mouth being the weak spots. But this particular dragon seems to have a slightly weaker hide over its wings and head. But don't make it too obvious that you know this. Rather pretend to be figuring out where to place your spells."

A whistle now blows, causing Bagman to hurriedly head off towards the enclosure. Meanwhile, Harry returns to the tent where Angelina and Krum glare at him.

"Cheating again?" asks Angelina.

"No, I was just having a friendly chat to calm the nerves, since I'm the youngest here."

Then, Krum wordlessly exits the tent to walk towards the enclosure where hundreds of faces are probably watching on. The roar of the crowd for Durmstrang's Champion can clearly be heard from the tent as Krum faces off against the Swedish Short-Snout. This leaves Harry, Fleur, and Alyssa sitting together while Angelina stands aside.

"At some point, you three are going to have to turn against each other anyway. This Tournament only has one winner," she says.

"You're going up next, so be a good and quiet Gryffindor," replies Harry calmly.

"Ze 'Orntail is a very, very, very dangerous dragon, 'Arry. Now I am starting to get worried you might end up fried chicken," whispers Fleur in Harry's ear, before passing on a helpful bit of information.

"Well, then this might be the last time we see each other." Harry can tell that his exaggeration is seen through by Fleur. "Would you be so kind?"

With a slight laugh, she rolls her eyes. "Go a'ead zen, fried teddy bear."

Seizing the opportunity, Harry sits closer beside her as he leans to rest his head on her shoulder. The roars and applause for Krum, as well as Bagman's excitable commentary does little to break the feeling of warmth on Harry's part now.

"Do not fall asleep on me, Monsieur. So much messy 'air in my face now," says Fleur, while glancing at the unruly locks of black right beside her cheek. Minutes later, Bagman finally announces the end of Krum's session.

"OH! That was a bad bit of miscalculation on his part. This dragon's flames aren't a joke at all. That's it... very daring! And... HE'S GOT IT! Viktor Krum has seized the egg! Good performance from our first Champion."

A loud round of applause and cheers sound while Harry guesses Krum's scores are being shown. But they are not announced out loud, for obvious reasons.

"One down, four to go! Miss Angelina Johnson, if you please!"

Thunderous roars and a tremendous amount of applause now sound from seemingly most of the crowd as Angelina exits the tent. Harry can practically imagine the scene of her being cheered on by nearly the entire school as she now faces her Romanian Longhorn. Clearly, the crowd are now chanting her name as the session begins.

While still lying on Fleur's shoulder, Harry grins as she strokes his hair. Whether from affection or simply her nerves he doesn't know, but either suits him fine as he continues to enjoy the sensation. A familiar feeling now arises in his chest, much like when Pansy or Hermione would display such warmth towards him.

"...look at that! Good lord! Right in its face, nice! So close, so close — almost had it. Wow this girl can run I must say, lucky dive right there! Must have stretched out and did her exercises well over the past few months to be so agile. Clever spells right there. Ouch! Oh but wait... that works in her favour! She's right there... got it! She's got the egg! Judges, if you would be so kind as to put 'em up now?"

The tent nearly shakes from the amount of cheers after Angelina's scores are shown. Then, Alyssa's name is called up as Bagman announces:

"Now it's time for Miss Alyssa Parkinson, let's have Champion number three out here against the Welsh Green!"

As Alyssa stands up in the tent, both Harry and Fleur wish her good luck. The latter reminding her to keep a level head when casting the charm. Alyssa nods before stepping out to a loud round of applause, though Angelina's sounded slightly more enthusiastic.

"I do 'ope she does not screw up," admits Fleur, whose tone sounds a slight bit softer than usual.

"She'll be fine, I do hope."

Harry and Fleur listen on as Bagman excitedly commentates on Alyssa's performance. The two Champions in the tent now wondering how she's faring.

"Shhhhh, be quiet folks, let's not hurt her performance here..." says Bagman, who now takes to whispering on the megaphone while the crowd goes silent. A tense few minutes passes by as Harry and Fleur feel even more anxious from the silence. "That's it... good show..."

A sudden roar can be heard as the dragon sounds to have resisted a fair bit of the spell. Now the crowd takes to gasping... then suddenly erupting into applause.

"AMAZING! Look at that girl summoning a Pa— uh, never mind. Nothing to give any ideas... uhm. Ohoho! What a clever distraction indeed. Lucky turn on the break as she runs... she's got the egg! That's three down now! Judges, put those scores up!"

And a few minutes later...

"Miss Fleur Delacour, number four of five, let us have our fourth Champion out here!"

Harry smiles at Fleur as she stands up. Then she returns the gesture from earlier by kissing his hand. "I will try to leave ze broom somewhere in ze enclosure. Maybe near ze exit if it is safe zere."

"Thanks, good luck."

"No, 'Arry. You are the one 'oo will be needing luck."

Fleur soon exits the tent to be greeted by a slightly louder round of applause from the crowd now. Harry can only imagine the faces of many male students as they so mindlessly clap and cheer her on. Bagman jokingly comments on the persistent applause even after many of the crowd has stopped. Then the match starts as the crowd gasps, and Bagman appears apprehensive.

"Oh dear me... yes, smart move to hide... wait, what's that? GOODNESS ME! LOOK WHAT'S ARRIVED! I CAN HARDLY BELIEVE IT!"

Whether they're shocked at Fleur's tactics or simply in awe, Harry can't be too sure. But he now sits alone in the tent while sniggering with himself. The Firebolt would clearly be identified as belonging to him, which Fleur would now be using.

"OH SHE CAN FLY! Why haven't I been told that she can? Has somebody perhaps...  _helped_  her improve? Interesting indeed I must say. Great Scott! Right under its tail, oh, narrow miss of a fireball there! She's flying like a Seeker or Chaser or something I'll admit, wait, it's over already? She's got the egg! Fastest time so far! SPECTACULAR! Look at her celebrating, and just look at those sco— I mean, there's the scores, folks."

From the rather swift session, and Bagman's tone of voice, Harry reckons that Fleur's topped the list thus far. But he now takes a deep breath in before exhaling from stress. "Stay calm, Harry James Potter, you can do this. Horntail my arse," he says to himself.

"Four of our Champions have now faced their dragons, and it's time to welcome our final contestant. The youngest one of the lot who needs no introduction. Uhm, where's the dragon?"

Harry stops metres from the tent's exit as he listens to what's happening outside. A tense silence soon broken by sounds of struggles, and then a rather fearsome roar.

"Mister Potter, one moment please. It seems our handlers are having a bit of a... handling issue... with this one. Whew what a fighter! Get those restraints on, A.S.A.P. people! Okay, seems like she's all restrained appropriately."

Another roar, followed by what sounds like the dragon fighting against its chains can be heard. Then, gasps of shock sound from the crowd as Harry hears the dragon probably shooting flames at its handlers.

"Just a few more minutes. Don't come out yet... there's still the legs to be chained... one on. Now get that right leg secured quickly!"

From inside the tent, Harry reckons the Hungarian Horntail has got to be the liveliest and most fearsome sounding dragon yet today. It continues to battle its handlers, emit a hair-raising roar, and spew forth breaths of fire. More minutes pass by before Bagman once again speaks:

"Looks like they've gotten both arms and legs secured. Handlers are free from the area now"—The commentary is overlapped by another furious bit of roaring—"That is one angry, ANGRY mother indeed. Alright, Mister Potter, come out and face the Hungarian Horntail. Show some support to our final Champion of today!"

Standing at the tent's exit, Harry hears the remarkable amount of cheers and support shown his way. It surprises him, but then again he realizes just how much of an underdog he now seems. But the youngest Champion facing the most terrifying dragon of today serves to swiftly quieten the once noisy crowd.

"Whenever you're ready, the crowd sure is ready, and so are the judges!" says Bagman, before Harry finally decides to step out as a whistle is blown.

A short, and rather fearful, walk takes him past the trees and into the enclosure. More than a few hundreds of people now appear to be staring down at him from the stands. The same apprehensive look seems to be on everyone's face. But none more so than a portion of the crowd where he spots his friends watching in near-horror. He reckons that it feels less of an event and more like a funeral, from the looks of the crowd.

At the end of the enclosure sits the Horntail. Her wicked yellow eyes already locked onto him. Crouched near her eggs, and with her wings already spread out, the dragon appears ready to defend her territory. It takes Harry a few seconds to spot the golden egg which is tucked snugly against its cement-coloured fellows.

"Now let's see what our fifth, and youngest, Champion has up his sleeve against this beast," says Bagman. His loud voice seemingly unsettling the scaly black Horntail as she trashes her spiky tail around, leaving noticeable gouge marks along the ground. "Good lord, I would not want to be in Harry Potter's position right now. Front side, back side, any side is considered deadly from this dragon."

To the gasps and outright bewilderment of the crowd, Harry not only draws his wand but also takes a bow. A very extravagant one that almost reminds him of Lockhart. He stays in this position for a while, almost like he had seen Ron Weasley do to Buckbeak at the start of third year. But thinking back like this reminds him of when Malfoy got scratched. And by the looks of it, Harry reckons a scratch is the least of his worries today.

"He's... bowing? A duellist bow? Ladies and gentlemen, I don't know what to say..." Bagman puts on a good show of shock, but Harry knows that he's already aware of this bunch of tactics.

The Horntail eyes him even more menacingly, if this is even possible, while Harry remains in the bow. Then he hears many in the crowd realizing what's about to take place, before they yell for the match to be called off. For none would like to see such a foolish duelling attempt result in a most gruesome death.

"Call it off! He's going to die!" shouts a few people from somewhere in the crowd.

"This is foolish! Bring out the dragon handlers and let him forfeit. At least he'll still be alive!" yells another section of the crowd, as the protests gradually grow louder.

Bagman's reply is pretty straightforward. "Sorry, folks, but we cannot interfere with the Champion's decision. Unless he himself gives up, or is basically moments from death, we shouldn't be bothering him now. Well, Mister Potter, commence your approach to getting the golden egg."

Harry's feet begin to slowly shake, quite similar to when he was dancing to Hermione's hi-fi system in her room last year. But this might be more from nerves now as he straightens up and takes aim.

_"Confringo!"_

Now he fires off his first spell, pointing his wand and watching a flash of fiery-orange surge forward towards the dragon. But it's a spell he's only recently learnt, which leaves much room for practice. A small explosion seems to barely cause any damage to the Horntail's left hind leg, before she roars at him.

"Well well, Potter's bringing the heat indeed with a blasting curse. Advanced stuff from a fourth-year I must say."

Curse or not, Harry knows that he's got to get past this dragon. But he's too far back to get a good shot on the struggling beast, who's fighting against her restraints before roaring at him yet again.

Racing to the right, towards a rock, Harry climbs up before taking aim yet again.  _"Stupefy_! he fires off a well-practiced stunner which unfortunately does little against the Horntail's left hind leg.  _"Confringo_ _!"_  Another small explosion which does nothing.  _"Everte Statum!"_

Eventually, the Horntail tries to get herself forward, even if only a few feet, to get within attack range. Harry notes that she's slightly hesitant to leave her nest of eggs, and so this only worsens the task ahead.

"Too close to fire the Conjunctivitis Curse," Harry mutters to himself, guessing that the Horntail might trample her own eggs then.

"He's certainly trying his luck here. That was a neat bit of spell casting right there. But we all know it takes some real skill to bring down a dragon with just one wand," says Bagman, while the crowd remain partly horrified and equally excited. "And it looks like Potter's keeping back too, but the clock's ticking as well..."

No sooner does Bagman speak before the Horntail lets out a jet of flame, but Harry's a fair bit over forty feet away.

_"Flipendo!"_

The knockback jinx narrowly misses the flames before crashing into the Horntail's palate. But although it's a weak spot, the dragon still appears to have some magical resistance internally. Nonetheless, the jinx causes the Horntail to jerk its head away, and the jet of flames now strikes a nearby rock.

"Right in the mouth with a knockback jinx! Lucky he was out of that fiery range to get a shot in!" Bagman's commentary has the crowd beginning to cheer louder now, although they're still in disbelief at Harry daring to stand against this dragon.

Feeling slightly emboldened, Harry remains out of reach while flinging more (rather poorly cast) blasting curses at the Horntail. The pattern of his attacks now seeming as if he's searching for weak spots. Eventually, he settles upon doubling back from the dragon's breath before hitting her wing with a stunner.

"Did that just have a tiny bit of effect? Not bad!" says Bagman, as Harry notes the slightly better effect of his last spell. A miniscule wince by the Horntail gives Harry hope as he now speeds things up.

_"Stupefy!"_

He runs to avoid the flurry of stones sent towards him as the Horntail sweeps her tail along the ground.

_"Confringo!"_

The little explosion against her left wing has the dragon now violently running forward to fight against her restraints.

_"Diffindo!_

Harry uses the severing charm to slice a few rocks nearby. Then he levitates and hurls each of the projectiles at the Horntail, who retaliates by blasting them to bits with fire. Every second now only further agitates the dragon as she continues to try and break free. Her vertical pupils fixated upon Harry in fury, no doubt from the constant flurry of spells aimed at her.

Remembering Bagman's words, Harry knows that she might very well come at him soon. Or sooner than he thinks since her left hind leg's chain suddenly breaks with a sickening  _SNAP_.

"GOODNESS GRACIOUS!" yells Bagman in surprise, while the crowd now clearly display their feelings of horror.

"Oh darn...  _Confringo_!" Harry tries to inflict some damage on the Horntail's wing, to only slight effect. Then he decides to target the hind legs again, just in case she does happen to break free soon. But some slight confusion with regards to proper wand-movements of two spells briefly has him pause, before he finally casts them.

 _"Locomotor Mortis_!" Which is followed by:  _"Locomotor Wibbly_!" Both spells strike their intended target, with little effect.

"Well, folks, you can't fault him for trying. This lad's really giving it his all and is certainly using what he's got. We're now five minutes into the session, with Fleur having been quickest on 9 minutes."

A guilty grin crosses Harry's face from releasing that his own strategy shown to Fleur has possibly put her in front. But any thoughts of irony are interrupted by another sickening  _SNAP_  as the Horntail's right hind leg now comes free. "Oh sh—"

"BARKING MAD! THE HORNTAIL'S LEGS ARE FREE! I don't know if these last two chains can withstand her might now. Perhaps Harry ought to consider..."

"No!" yells Harry, more to himself than the terrified crowd as he fights on. A fearsome roar soon directs his attention to the Horntail now launching herself repeatedly forward. Each burst straining the chains at her forelegs (or 'arms', as most might say) to near breaking point.

 _"Confringo_!" " _Flipendo_!"  _"Locomotor Mortis_!" Harry's attacks end up on point at the hind legs but to little effect once more. He now begins aiming for the Horntail's face, but she seems to be outsmarting him with her evasive neck movements.

"The Horntail's trying her luck indeed, folks, just look at her straining those chains at her arms!"

Panic slowly sets in as Harry ducks behind a few rocks to evade the jet of fire sent remarkably close to him. Little  _snaps_  can be heard over a dozen metres away as the dragon continues to lurch forward. The chains at her forelegs now go from slack to taut as she viciously seeks to break free.

While essentially taking cover behind—and looking over—a sizable rock, Harry stares at the Horntail. Her fearsome eyes seem to be glaring at him while she bares her fangs during her roar.

"Come on, you bitch, COME ON!" He hisses in anger at the dragon giving him so much trouble today. "You don't have the guts to burn me down."

Suddenly, the final two chains are ripped free as the Horntail now fires a jet of flame upwards. If dragons could smile vindictively, Harry reckons this one would do so right now. But she immediately takes to spreading her wings and launching herself towards his spot.

"Okay, Harry, you've done remarkably well for a youngster... but now's the time to reconsider. Call in the dragon keepers already, this is well out of hand!" says Bagman, who once again echoes the sentiment of many in the crowd.

But Harry gives some of the countless faces around him a defiant look before jerking his head left. All he sees is a monstrous lizard of scaly black as the Horntail flies in while readying her spiky tail to strike.

Panicked, Harry glares at her, his voice low and quite shaken. "Scared to breathe fire at the little human, huh, bitch?"

Then she swerves in mid-air before dropping her tail and instead giving a vicious roar. This is followed by a blast of fire straight at Harry.

_"Protego!"_

Ignoring the screams echoing from hundreds of faces around the enclosure, Harry sees nothing but flaming orange. From the Horntail's mouth until inches from Harry's face, fire spews forth before forking out against his barrier.

"OH MY GOODNESS! What a lad! What a great shield charm as Harry takes that Horntail's flames like a man! Hang in there, young Champion!"

"Goddamn!" yells Harry.

What follows is four seconds of the closest thing he reckons food in the microwave might feel like. The jets of fire now require a tremendous amount of focus on his part to block. Searing heat sting his arms, face, and hands as he sees three branches of flames going all around his barrier, tearing down bits of nearby rock.

Finally, the Horntail needs to catch her breath before trying to swipe at him with her tail. But Harry's hardly paying any attention to those around him as he goes on the defensive. An instinctive dive to the side sees him narrowly avoid the spiky tail gouging at the rocky ground. Bits of stone now hitting him against the face as he brings his arms up.

Panting, and his voice a shaken hiss, he crawls over to a rock before turning to look at the hovering Horntail. "Bloody coward. Flames and spiky tail... oh  _wow_ , so impressive. Useless arms I guess."

After covering his ears from the vicious roar of the dragon, Harry glances in shock as she swoops right down at him. Before he can fire off a spell, he's essentially back-handed aside by the Horntail's left foreleg. Seconds later, he lands on his back atop a few rocks before looking up at the skies. Circling a fair distance above is the Horntail, who appears to have left her eggs unguarded. But Harry knows that he barely has a chance to try his luck now.

"Look, I think we all know you should get out while you still can. Spectacular shield charm and a decent performance but your dragon's broken free. Come on, kid, it's a  _Hungarian Horntail..._ " says Bagman over the megaphone.

While needing a few seconds to recover, Harry spots the Horntail suddenly diving straight down at him. A nightmarish scene for anyone as she grows larger by the second upon nearing him with her jaws wide open.

"I'm nobody's lunch! Your fire's weak," he hisses, unsure of why he's even bothering to be insulting against a dragon. Then, another roar sees her deciding to pass by, before the Horntail circles around to inhale. "Oh for God's sake not this again..."

Harry throws himself forward before swiping his wand straight up as another jet of fire approaches.

_"Protego!"_

Another four seconds follows with Harry giving the audience a spectacle to stare at, with their mouths agape. Hovering in the air is the dragon spewing forth its flames against the Champion shielded by his spell. "Piss off!" yells Harry, though inaudible to anyone in the crowd farther away.

Finally, the Horntail has to cease its attack before smashing its tail along the nearby rocks. A few now sent hurling in Harry's direction before he desperately leaps to the side.

Muttering to himself, Harry hopes that his trust is well-placed. "Fleur, my darling, I hope you've had a good heart today..."

The ground almost trembles as the Horntail lands with a vicious  _THUD_ , while Harry takes aim towards some rocks near the exit.

_"Accio Firebolt!"_

To his left, a mass of scaly black suddenly flies forward before swiping her tail at him.

_"Protego!"_

The spiky tail smashes his shield, which just about saves Harry, before sending him landing behind another few rocks. Heavy footsteps alert him to the Horntail creeping over towards his spot. Now it seems clear that there's no time to get away.

"If I just had a few seconds to get into the air I'd take you down, Horntail bitch." He grits his teeth before having to lean over a rock to briefly rest.

"That's it. SEND IN THE KEEPERS!" Bagman seems to be desperately yelling over the megaphone. "The Horntail's got Harry Potter cornered now."

"Just a few more seconds," Harry hisses to himself, while hoping for his broom to arrive. Then the dragon's footsteps, surprisingly, now stop before the crowd gasps. Something seems to have zipped across the enclosure, and which now stops dead in mid-air beside him.

"What in the... oh yes, that  _is_  Harry Potter's broom after all. Wait a minute, are you folks thinking what I'm thinking? Why wasn't that broom out of the enclosure? Well, I suppose he didn't actually break any rules like this... HERE WE GO!"


	20. Fighting a Horntail

"Get lost, I don't need your help."

"Don't be stupid, Harry. Mum's gonna throw a heck of a fit at me when she finds out about this!"

"I said go away! Don't you dare ruin my efforts."

While the Horntail prepares to take off again, Harry finds himself hovering near the enclosure's exit. Charlie Weasley and the rest of the dragon keepers appear ready to stop the Task, but Harry immediately drives them away.

"Well, he sure appears insistent on not getting any help," says Bagman over the megaphone. "Guess the keepers have got to step back into the first aid tent now. Let's see if Harry's Quidditch skills can outmanoeuvre a dragon!"

"Just get it away from the eggs and then seize the golden one," says Charlie, as quietly as he can.

But Harry shakes his head before muttering, "Who said I'm running away? This task ain't over for me until that Horntail is lights out."

"Are you barking menta—" Charlie is interrupted by his colleagues who pull him back into the tent as Harry spins around.

Being airborne now seems to have relieved a noticeable amount of stress on Harry's part. It's clear that he's now given himself a fighting chance by mitigating the dragon's air-to-ground advantage from earlier. With left hand on the broom, and wand in his right, he now flies straight at the oncoming dragon.

"Not so scary now, are you? Let's see some of that fiery breath again, bitch," he hisses in anger. Then he begins swerving as the Horntail opens her jaws wide to blast a jet of fire right at him. Although the crowd appears to be fairly lower than Harry now, he can still hear their reactions.

_"Protego_! I am not going to become fried chicken."

Once again, his barrier manages to withstand the flames as the Horntail unleashes four seconds of near-Hell on Harry. But this time he rolls to the side, out of harm's way, before firing off a knockback jinx again into her mouth.

_"Confringo!"_

A slightly better cast blasting curse hits the dragon on her head, causing her to flinch in the air. This is followed by Harry placing a sticking charm on his Firebolt's bipod to secure his feet. Whatever Bagman might be commentating now doesn't bother Harry who spins to fly upside down as the Horntail strikes. Her spiky tail comes at him next before he ducks, speeds forward, then swerves around to fire a stunner at her left wing.

Enraged, she roars at him again before firing more bursts of flame which Harry evades. The Firebolt affording him such agility in the air to rival even the attacking Horntail. Almost like cat and mouse do they now fly across the enclosure, as the dragon attempts to knock him off his broom.

_"Stupe—"_

Harry's focus is interrupted as the dragon's tail comes swishing his way as she swerves in the air. It narrowly misses his chest before tearing at his sleeve and sending him flying to the left. Fortunately, the sticking charm keeps him on the broom, and all that happens is Harry now rolling around in a full circle. He then sits down and spots the Horntail making a swift dive towards him from her vantage point higher in the air. But a chance glimpse downwards lets Harry spot a loose, yet sizable, rock right below him.

"Come on, bitch, come on..." he mutters to the dragon. Once she's metres away, Harry banks the Firebolt to the side before taking aim at the rock below.

_"Volate Ascendare!"_

Like a rocket, it shoots upwards before hitting the unsuspecting dragon right beneath her jaw. The ensuing roar of pain is met with a stunner followed by a knockback jinx in the mouth causing the Horntail to briefly land upon the ground. Her wings then spread out as she prepares for another attack.

His heart racing with fear and excitement, Harry performs a double roll to evade the jet of fire before flying right up to the dragon's face. The heat of the fiery breath can clearly be felt below him as Harry fires a Conjunctivitis Curse on target. Then he conjures up a shield charm just in time to fly through the stream of fire before getting a blasting curse on the Horntail's palate.

With her eyes affected by Harry's curse, the dragon flails its tail around wildly. Another knockback jinx to the head finally has her stumbling over a slight bit. But no rest for Harry as he's suddenly caught by the end of the dragon's tail. It may only be a small one, but it's still a spike that goes through his left shoulder. Such is the sudden surge of pain that Harry pays no attention to the screams in the crowd. He then dispels the sticking charm to climb off his broom before casting a fire-making spell at the tip of the dragon's tail. But it seems to have little effect other than burning away his blood from the spike.

"... spike through the left shoulder. That has so got to be hurting now. But the eggs are unguarded and the dragon unable to see clearly. This could be as good an opportunity as any..." Bagman's voice seems to be drowned out by Harry's focus upon getting the task done. He looks to the right, spots the golden egg, but then decides to cast a spell at his arm before carrying on.

_"Episkey_."

A slight bit of healing seems enough to at least stop the bleeding as he begins assaulting the dragon. With her eyes still affected, the Horntail now proves an easier target, especially due to her furious roars.

_"Stupefy!" "Confringo!" "Everte Statum!"_

Three spells to the Horntail's forehead now has her falling slightly back against a few rocks. Unable to clearly see, she retaliates by furiously sending a stream of fire in Harry's direction.

_"Protego!"_

He manages to endure another four seconds of agony before the Horntail wildly runs at him. Her tail once again comes swinging, and Harry drops to the ground to evade. Now, the dragon opts to use her other senses to track her target and viciously swipe her left foreleg at Harry.

_"Bombarda!"_

Nothing effective happens except that the dragon now attempts another swipe at Harry. And with the odds growing slimmer by the second, he aims his wand at her face.

_"Crucio!"_

The dragon roars in a brief few seconds of anguish which gives Harry time to break for cover. Although it was nowhere near a well-performed Curse, Harry can now take a moment to catch his breath and focus on Bagman's commentary as well.

"... I'm not exactly sure what just happened there, but Harry's narrowly got himself out of a dangerously close-range attack. We're now 12 minutes into this session, and he's looking badly hurt. But, then again, the Horntail seems to have taken its share of hits too. Who will give in first?"

Indeed, Harry sees that his sleeves have been ripped, his arms (and quite possibly a fair bit of his face too) suffering burns, and his left shoulder numb with pain. Heavy footsteps soon thud along the ground as the Horntail turns to face him from metres away.

" _Avada Ked_ —" He halts, then remembers that there's a massive crowd watching him. The moment's hesitation now gives the dragon an opportunity to leap ahead and swipe her spiky tail.

"Oh dear, he'd better do something..." Bagman's commentary is ignored by Harry, who aims at the ground ahead of himself.

_"Bombarda!"_

The resulting shockwave of the blast sends him flying backwards—out of harm's way—before he takes aim again.

_"Arresto Momentum."_

He now lands safely on his feet before seeing the Horntail open her jaws wide for another attack. But Harry swiftly runs to dodge the leaping dragon before he stands atop a rock. Then he briefly looks over his shoulder to see most of the crowd behind him being familiar faces. The Slytherins pause their clapping upon seeing just how injured their Champion happens to be. But Harry uses his arms to incite them to cheer louder. By now, he reckons he's figured out the dragon's patterns of attack.

"It seems like Harry's trying to liven up the crowd behind him, um, don't forget about the actual task at hand..." Bagman appears somewhat confused by the boy raising his arms while standing on a rock.

For Harry, fighting a dragon reminds him of something Dudley might play on his new PlayStation console. The key difference being that this is real life and there are no memory cards to save and load. The Horntail now furiously roars at him from across the enclosure, and Harry gives a rather loud laugh in response.

"Okay then, I hope he isn't losing his mind out there from all those injuries..."

Many Slytherins now ramp up their cheers and stand on their feet to urge their injured Champion on. And he certainly seems to revel in the lively audience behind him, as Harry now continues to dance on the rock.

"Goodness, I think he's actually enjoying this now. Has he gone mental from out there?" asks Bagman incredulously.

The livid Horntail soon leaps forward, swooping near the ground, before swinging her tail at him.

_"Protego!"_

It smashes through the shield charm, but once again Harry's better off than if he had not cast it. He then summons the Firebolt before taking off, with the Horntail in pursuit. Jets of fire narrowly miss as Harry rolls numerous times before flying head on towards the dragon.

He makes what feels like a last ditch effort to assault his opponent. She swipes to which he dodges, then Harry retaliates by rocketing more rocks from the ground to slam against her. By now, they've taken to circling above the enclosure while facing each other in battle.

_"Stupefy!" "Everte Statum!" "Confringo!_ "

Three spells hit the dragon across her face before Harry then fires another Conjunctivitis Curse at her eyes. He then takes the opportunity to gather a few rocks together before blasting them upwards to smash into the Horntail's face.

_"Depulso!" "Stupefy!"_

Both spells hit her squarely at the back of her throat, causing the dragon to finally tumble over in mid-air. Then she falls to the ground before crash landing near the enclosure's entrance.

"UNBELIEVABLE! HE'S DONE IT! HARRY POTTER'S MANAGED TO TAKE DOWN THAT HUNGARIAN HORNTAIL! Come on, lad, we're 18 minutes in now. Go get that egg!"

Spinning around in mid-air, Harry speeds forth towards the cluster of eggs where he finally snatches the golden one. Though his left arm suffers terrible pain, Harry nonetheless uses it to steady himself on the broom. Then he holds the rather heavy egg up high with his right, receiving a truly thunderous round of applause and cheers.

"GOOD LORD! Our final Champion ends the First Task with a bang indeed! Faced with a Hungarian Horntail on the loose, the fourteen year old has now seized the golden egg. However, Harry'd better get himself thoroughly patched up in the tent before viewing his scores. Judges, I'm sure you can all take your time now."

Over at the enclosure's entrance, Hagrid grins widely while applauding the performance. One look around lets Harry see the Slytherins leading the applause that even the rest of the students have to join in.

"Yeh did it, Harry! Did it agains' the Horntail an' all, even if she was the wors' one of the lot!"

Seconds later, a familiar young woman steps around Hagrid to congratulate Harry.

"Bloody amazing, you little boy! Absolutely amazing!" Tonks beams with pride before a rather red-faced Harry. "You really should've seen the look on Mad-Eye's face when you blocked the dragon's fire and her tail! Friggin cool shield charm that was. Good stuff, Harry, great stuff!"

"Thanks, but I'm really hurting like Hell over here now..."

"You  _look_  like Hell now," says Tonks, in both an amusing and yet almost motherly manner. "Dittany and whatever else Madam Pomfrey's got oughta do the trick."

"No hugs?" asks Harry hopefully.

"Not here, don't wanna attract too much attention."

Joining Hagrid and Tonks at the entrance is Snape, who pushes her aside to stand before Harry. Yet again, an awkward silence follows as they look upon each other.

"Professor Snape, you should be proud of young Harry over here. Look how beat up he seems after taking down the dragon," says Tonks.

"Doesn't look any worse than usual."

Sighing at Snape's snide remark, Hagrid decides to walk into the enclosure where the keepers are now moving the unconscious Horntail away. He then picks up the Firebolt to return it to the Slytherin locker rooms. Seconds later, a familiar face comes hurrying out behind Snape, causing the latter to glare before turning to leave.

"Excellent! 100 Points to Slytherin, if I was still Professor, hahaha!" Lupin runs over to shake his (rather painful) hand before pulling him into a slight hug. "Seems you're getting into the habit of taking down vicious beasts at school, eh?"

"Definitely! This one's right on my top three. Dragon, Basilisk and..." Once the hug is released, Harry grins mischievously before giving Lupin a knowing look in the eye.

"Oh how very funny you are. By the way, Sirius says he'll chat to you in the medical tent. And uh..." Lupin turns to glance at Tonks. "Who's this one?"

"Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius' cousin. Surprised he never told you about her." Harry stands on tiptoes to whisper in the amused Lupin's ear. "She's a real pretty sweetheart, and single, just so you know."

"Where did this topic come from?" asks Lupin confusedly.

"Excuse me, but DO NOT use that name." Tonks grabs Harry around the arm. "What did you whisper in this man's ear?"

"Uh, nothing."

"You'd better tell me, Harry." Her grip tightens on his injured arm.

"Ouch!"

"Come on, Miss Nymphadora, leave poor Harry alone. Can't you see that he's injured?" asks Lupin, who steps back upon being glared at by Tonks.

"It's Tonks, spell it T—O—N—K—S! Now as for you, little dragonslayer, what did you whisper about me?"

"Nothing, OW! Let go of me, you crazy babe."

"Hmph, well, I suppose I'll head back to the stands. Maybe we'll chat again, little pervert dragon boy." Tonks turns around, greets Lupin with a nod, before exiting to return to wherever she was seated.

"That might be your chance, Lupin. Go get her!"

"What?"

"I defeated a Hungarian Horntail, surely going after that Metamorphmagus Auror woman shouldn't be too difficult?"

"No way. Nice talking to you, cheers. Gonna head back to my seat," replies Lupin, who hurries off as Harry laughs. Moments later, Bagman reminds the latter to head over to the medical tent immediately, which he does through much applause from a portion of the crowd. Just as Lupin had said, Sirius meets him in the tent, which is divided into cubicles for each Champion.

"Absolutely bang on brilliant, Harry. I am well and truly proud of that performance, even if you came out looking like this."

After hugging his godfather, Harry laughs. "Can't look any worse than you after Azkaban." But their heart-warming little moment is cut short as Pomfrey almost yanks Harry into a nearby cubicle.

"First dementors and now... dragons!" she scolds seemingly at the air. "What are they going to bring into this place next? Goodness, you're looking awfully injured. These burns are going to need a thorough application of dittany right now.  _Sit_   _still_!"

With Sirius soon entering the cubicle, Harry tries his best not to squirm and moan too loudly from the stinging topical paste lathered over his arms. From the tips of his fingers right up to his elbows, Harry sees the brownish paste gradually working. Then, Pomfrey smears some on both of his cheeks before mending his arm with a healing spell.

"The pain should start subsiding over the next few days. Thankfully, you won't be suffering any permanent burns, but you'll need to apply one more lather tomorrow morning," says Pomfrey, to which Harry nods.

"Where's Fleur?" he suddenly asks. much to the amused expression of Sirius. But before the latter can reply, a familiarly soothing voice can be heard right next door.

"Sitting 'ere wiz Alyssa. We 'ave all been listening to Meester Bagman's commentating. Can I come inside?"

"Yeah, I'm all patched up and whatnot." Harry receives a smiling thumbs up from Sirius as Fleur enters the cubicle, while Pomfrey exits.

She gasps upon seeing Harry. "Monsieur, you do look like a fried chicken indeed. Ze Horntail 'as really gotten you good out zere today! 'Ow absolutely lucky you are wiz zat very good shield spell."

"Thanks for the concern, much appreciated. You look unscathed though, perfect as usual." Harry tries not to look at the gestures of approval from Sirius while speaking to a smiling Fleur.

"Well, I was ze quickest and most effecteev at retrieving ze golden egg today. No injuries, zanks to my 'recently acquired' skills on ze broom."

"Ah yes, 'recently acquired' indeed. Well done on improving your flying skills so fast. Oh, and what a sneaky idea to go and summon my Firebolt. But I forgive you for that," says Harry, smiling as he knows the other Champions (mainly Angelina and Krum) and Madam Pomfrey are eavesdropping.

"You both put on a splendid show, but Harry certainly was the craziest of the lot. We were all starting to think you were going nuts after awhile," says Sirius.

"It ees as I 'ave always said: 'Arry is a crazy leetle boy." Fleur takes a moment to gently run her fingers along his paste covered arm. "But now we can 'ardly make too much fun of 'im since 'e is the only one zat 'as taken down a dragon."

By the time Bagman calls for Harry to come view his scores, Sirius concludes with another hug for his godson. Not wanting to draw too much unwanted attention between his closeness to Harry, he exits to return to his seat in the stands.

"I will come wiz you"—Fleur then whispers in Harry's ear—"Alyssa would too, but let us not make things too suspicious, no?"

"Before I go out there, would you please tell me yours?" asks Harry, to which she whispers in his ear.

"Bagman gave me 9, Dumbly-Dorr"—Harry sniggers at her pronunciation—"gave a 9, Madame Maxime put up a 10, Meester Crouch gave a 9, and Karkaroff gave a 6. So zat makes my score ze highest so far on 43 out of 50."

"I think you deserve it."

"But it was your strategy, 'Arry," she whispers ever so softly.

"Still takes some real skill to pull that off." He now exits the medical tent with Fleur before heading across the enclosure. With the crowd eagerly anticipating the results, Harry looks up at the five judges. They appear to be seated in high chairs which are draped in gold. First up, Madame Maxime shoots a silvery ribbon which twists itself into an 8.

"I am surprised zey are not taking off more points for all your injuries, but zat is a good score. Per'aps ze fact zat you 'ave taken down ze Horntail 'as pushed ze marks up," says Fleur, while standing a couple metres behind Harry.

Next comes Mr. Crouch who also shows an 8. No protests on Harry's part as he feels rather lucky to be scored this high, especially since injuries mean penalties. Then, Dumbledore puts up the third 8 for today, earning some boos from the Slytherin section of the crowd who chant "Nine!"

"Silence," says Dumbledore calmly, before the scoring continues.

"Twenty-four so far, eet seems promising now for you," says Fleur.

Harry can only stifle his grin upon seeing Ludo Bagman hold up a 10 next. The perfect score, even though Harry's clearly injured, elicits laughter and applause from the Slytherins. But it also raises a slight bit of confusion from most of the other onlookers, including Fleur.

"Well, it seems 'e likes you vairy much."

"Who doesn't?" asks Harry slyly, in a manner that has Fleur softly scoffing behind him. "That's now 34 on the tally for me."

His heart sinks as he knows that Karkaroff's about to score him next. From the apprehensive looks on many of Harry's supporters' faces, it seems the Headmaster has heavily favoured Krum today. Karkaroff now raises his wand to shoot a silvery ribbon twisting itself into a...

"Nine?  _Merde_ , zat was truly unexpected!" admits Fleur, while glancing at an equally confused Harry.

"I guess even the biased Durmstrang Headmaster has to show respect for a Hungarian Horntail going down. Not many fourteen year olds can say they've done this..."

"Yes, zat indeed makes sense. Ze Durmstrang lot do like strength and such stuff vairy much. Oh my, we are both in ze first place!" Fleur just about finishes her sentence before the crowd goes wild with applause, especially the Slytherins who repeatedly chant Harry's name. To remind everyone of the first task's final standings, fiery words now appear in the air:

_Delacour: 43 Potter: 43_

_Parkinson: 41_

_Krum: 40_

_Johnson: 39_

Minutes later, after the crowd finishes its applause, some protests regarding the scoring, and chants, Harry and Fleur exit first. They now decide to head back to the castle as the sun begins to near the horizon.

"Wow, this Tournament's rather close I must say." Harry looks over his shoulder, and slightly up, at Fleur walking beside him. "Are you bothered by me being right with you on the scoreboard?"

"I do actually enjoy such a competition. And I am glad zat you are ze one so close behind. And Alyssa, 'oo I zink 'as gone to find 'er cousin."

"Wish I had family here too," sighs Harry, before they stop in the empty entrance hall where Fleur places her palm beneath his chin.

"Chin up, 'Arry. You should feel proud wiz what you 'ave accomplished today. I do feel sorry for you about not 'aving family zough."

"Since everyone's still on their way back, let's do some practice. First of all, try saying 'th'."

"Zzz."

"No!" Harry would facepalm, if there wasn't so much dittany smeared all over him already. "Thhhhh."

"Zzz."

"Stop buzzing like a bee. Say, 'SlyTHerin."

"Slyzerin!" Fleur tilts her head and gives a cute smile. "Ze House of Slyzerin."

"Thhhh! Put a 't' and an 'h' together and it goes thhh. Though, think, that, they, three..."

"I can say zose easier. Three! Zere I 'ave said it."

"So it's when there's a vowel afterwards that you usually struggle, huh?" Harry nods in understanding, while also softly laughing.

"We should go sit at ze table now, put both eggs on it and maybe open zem later?"

"Yeah, sure. So, um, are we still going to help each other or not from here on out? The eggs are said to be a clue for the next task, remember?"

"Let us see which one of us three can solve ze clue first. I zink zat would be very much fun indeed."

They now enter the empty Great Hall to take their seats at the end of the Slytherin table.

"You do smell full of zat paste, shame."

"Let me know how it feels for you to block dragon fire with a shield charm. Thanks." Harry covers his arms with his newly fixed sleeves before putting them on the table. Then he removes his glasses before resting his head on his arms as the Hall swiftly begins filling up. "Fleur, keep away anybody that's not a friendly face for me, please."

"Do you zink I am a 'ouse elf? Okay, fine, I will do just zat. But you do understand eef my people come over to congratulate me, right?"

"Yeah, sure. I don't mind the noise but just let me get some peace for a change. I'll leave it up to you to decide who you're gonna chase away." Harry smiles before shutting his eyes at the table for a much-needed quick nap. The sound of Fleur shooing away unwanted attention makes him smile before he's fast asleep at the dinner table.

After about half an hour later, Harry lifts his head as the loudness of the Great Hall gradually comes into focus for him. Blurry figures soon clear up as his glasses are slipped on before he's grabbed into a tight hug.

"Harry boy! That was absolutely nuts, crazy, insane!" Pansy's amazement is matched only by her fussing over his lingering injuries. Seconds later, the other four girls join in the handshakes, hugs, and repeated discussion over his performance today.

"You actually took that dragon down, like, really! Joint first place or not, no offence to Fleur, but that was easily the best thing in the Tournament thus far," admits Sally-Anne, who's seated opposite Harry.

Daphne sits beside her, and remains beaming with pride. "You took 'crazy' to new heights out there today. I don't think we want to know what went through your mind while fighting _that_ particular dragon. A bloody Hungarian Horntail!"

"A fricking Horntail, and you took it down with style!" says Tracey, who's seated to Pansy's right, two places from the grinning Harry.

Millicent looks at Harry before she smiles. "This is definitely going to be all over the  _Daily Prophet_  now. Skeeter will be having a field day out there. Congratulations on making yourself even more famous now, Harry. But the irony of Fleur coming joint first with such a smooth strategy is just too funny."

"I am still sitting 'ere, in case you girls 'ave forgotten," says Fleur, who remains sitting to Harry's left. "Looks like zere are a lot of people looking zis way now."

"Why wouldn't they?" asks Pansy. "Harry's been snoozing like a baby for the past half an hour already. Now they're gonna come up to him, yep, here comes some of our table."

A slight yawn escapes Harry before he's essentially swarmed by much of the Slytherin table. After yet another handshake or hug, he gives up trying to explain how painful his arms and cheeks remain. The dried paste now forming a rather uncomfortable layer over his burnt areas. From both Flints, to the Quidditch team, to the Prefects, to whoever else supports Harry, they congratulate him on his 'unbelievable' performance.

Once the crowd around him has finally dispersed, Harry discreetly looks to the left. He spots a variety of suspicious expressions directed at him and Fleur, with some students from other tables whispering among each other.

"Zey are most surely discussing ze fact zat I 'ave used your Firebolt, and clearly a strategy zat you would 'ave used today. Well, zere is nuzzing zat anybody can do about it now. Ze marks are all up and finalised, yes."

"Thanks for leaving it near the exit." Harry both smiles and winces as Fleur pulls on his cheek.

"But you still got burned like a chicken being cooked. Look a'ead and see 'ow Alyssa is doing."

As asked, Harry looks straight at the Ravenclaw table where Alyssa seems to have garnered much support. Her performance in the first task seems to have caused many Beauxbatons, and Ravenclaws, to accept her as a worthy Champion.

"I guess it helps that her strategy differed from ours, so that's less suspicion towards her. Speaking of which"—Harry looks from Fleur to the other girls—"Would someone be so kind as to tell me what the other Champions did?"

Before the others can reply, Tracey leans towards Harry. "Well, Fleur over here simply hid behind a rock to summon the Firebolt. Then she flew quite spectacularly to get the chained up Chinese Fireball away from the eggs before she just snatched the golden one. You should have seen her little dance afterwards."

Fleur softly laughs. "I zink zat my shaking of ze backside leetle dance would 'ave distracted 'Arry. So it is good zat 'e did not see."

"That's not all," says Tracey. "She danced with and kissed your Firebolt before entering the tent. Dunno how she managed to actually toss it aside so discreetly."

"You kissed my broom?" asks a beaming Harry.

"It did 'elp, so yes."

"But what about me? I helped you too."

"Your face is covered in zat medical paste, fried chicken man."

Sally-Anne leans forward to speak over Tracey, as Krum's performance is now discussed. "He kinda did what you ended up acing, Harry. That's why his supporters seem rather offended by your performance, in addition to their own Headmaster giving you the same score as him."

Daphne nods before adding her bit. "So, Krum started with using the Conjunctivitis Curse, but the Short-Snout was rather quick to evade. Took awhile to get it on point before Krum then tried manoeuvring, on foot, past the dragon. Thing is, he underestimated the blue flames of a Short-Snout, so he ended up losing time and points for getting burnt. But he eventually got the egg and got scored. Can't remember the other judges but Karkaroff gave him a 9."

Next up, Millicent leans in to describe Angelina's performance. "She tried summoning a broom as well. Problem was that it obviously couldn't be a Firebolt. So... Johnson brought her Cleansweep Five to the match. Dunno why she didn't go with Ginny Weasley's Nimbus 2000 instead. Anyway, let's just say the Cleansweep wasn't nimble enough to outmanoeuvre the Romanian Longhorn. Heck, one of the dragon's horns nearly caught Johnson in the air."

Further description is now given by Pansy. "Dumb girl then had to leap off her broom before it got burnt to a crisp by the Longhorn. Guess nobody else could block that fire like our Pottery baby. Anyway... Johnson ended up flinging rocks in the dragon's face while running around. She's tall so her strides made her quick enough to get past. But she soon got hit in the back by the tail, which wasn't spiky like the Horntail's. Lucky for her, the stupid dragon actually sent her flying towards the eggs where she snatched the golden one. But both Krum and her actually damaged a few of the normal eggs which cost them points. Karkaroff certainly had upset the crowd by scoring Johnson a 4, hahaha!"

Although he has a pretty good idea of what Alyssa's done, Harry still asks Pansy to explain.

"Oh, she got so lucky. Very lucky! Initially, she used that sleeping charm to try and get the Welsh Green out. It sorta worked but then all of a sudden the dragon resisted and roared. You must've heard that part and figured her plan A didn't work. But that's why she scored well because Alyssa came with a plan B. That big crow Patronus was beautiful indeed, not to mention quite helpful. It distracted the dragon long enough for Alyssa to sneak over and snatch the egg."

"So Fleur basically upstaged Johnson's tactics, and you did a more epic fight than Krum. That's why people are looking your ways now," says Daphne, to Harry and Fleur.

"Oh, and while you were all snoozing beside me, Fleur 'politely' chased away a few folks, like Weasley and Granger," says Pansy. "I guess they probably don't like her now after that."

"Well, to be fair I was trying to get some rest quickly. Why don't they just come over now?" asks Harry, who'd rather not look towards the Gryffindor table at the moment. "Congratulations on earning yourself the reputation of biggest bitch in the school now."

"Oh please, 'Arry, I 'ave enjoyed zat reputation for many years at Beauxbatons. It is not anyzing new to me. But it does make zings fun again."

"Man, you're a bad girl," replies an amused Harry, while Fleur sits with her nose in the air. "Pansy's got competition..."

"Enjoy her while she's here, because it'll only be a year," says Pansy smugly. "After that, Harry's all mine again."

"Johnson's not looking too pleased after your close performances. Champions four and five both use the same Firebolt, and both end up doing well," admits Millicent, who's looking rather obtrusively at the Gryffindor table. "She keeps talking while looking at you two, but I guess it's super suspicious how you came first."

"Why? Because zey zought I was just a pretty girl 'oo is only good for attracting ze menfolk?" Fleur narrows her eyes and scowls while speaking. "Do zey beleeve zis girl wiz ze veela ancestry cannot stand up to ze big boy of ze Tournament?"

"Um, actually, I'm not that big..."

"I was not talking about you, my leetle 'Arry. Everybody is so firm on believing zat ze big Quidditch famous Seeker man-boy will dominate in ze Tournament! Well, sorry to 'ave caused an upset by being above ze Viktor Krum now. Is it not funny zat I 'ave done so wiz somezing 'e is evidently good at?"

Fleur now looks at Harry, who grins. "Yeah, it's bloody hilarious and ironic for Miss Everyone-Thinks-She's-Only-Good-Enough-To-Look-At to fly her way to the top. I bet Krum's kicking himself for not having considered using his broom skills."

"Don't forget about the underdog little baby that took down a Horntail while Krum screwed up a bit with a Short-Snout," laughs Pansy. "It's still unbelievable to think about."

"Speaking of unbelievable." Harry directs her attention to the Ravenclaw table. "Your cousin's starting to get many admirers now, and more than just for her performance."

"What? Oh no they don't!" Pansy slams her fist on the table. "Who's that guy now again? The one offering to dish Alyssa food?"

"Roger Davies, Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain. Thinks he's some sort of ladies man. Oh he's got his eyes set on Alyssa now. Actually, there's more guys planning to ask her out..."

"Friggin distractions, the whole lot of them! Now people wanna notice my pretty cousin, huh?" Pansy turns to look at Harry. "There might be a change of plans regarding our Yule Ball arrangement. Hope you understand?"

"No way you're gonna do what I think you're gonna do. That's... I dunno if that'll be weird or quite hot—OW!" His words are cut off by a slap from Pansy.

"She's my cousin and I gotta look out for her. Don't get any filthy ideas in your brain, Potter boy. Girls, you understand, right?"

Daphne nods on behalf of the group. "Strange choice, but yeah go for it. I'm sure you guys will really hang out and have fun together at the Ball. And NOT what Harry's thinking about."

"But, now who do I go with?" asks Harry. "There goes my partner, off saving the day for her cuzzy."

Fleur folds her arms before looking at him, but Harry continues to survey the rest of the Hall.

"Darn, you five girls are all already taken. I can't go around asking people who don't support me. Ginny and Hermione probably hate me now..."

Fleur continues to look—almost expectantly—at the concerned Harry, before Daphne groans out loud.

"Are you blind?" She then points at Fleur.

"Uhm..."

"It is a  _yes,_  'Arry Potter."


	21. A Tricky Slytherin

_Fourth-Year Slytherin Girls' Dormitory. Wednesday, November 25th, 1994._

"Darn... my head, my arms, my face, my everything..."

Harry wakes up feeling a surprising mixture of refreshment, pain, and slight fatigue. No sooner does he climb out of bed than Pansy slips on his glasses, bringing everything into focus.

"Good morning, Mister Noisy-Egg Boy!" she happily greets, before the rest of the room grabs him into individual hugs. "Let's leave figuring out that egg for later, and now focus on getting up for today."

"How's your burns feeling? They look much better, but still not completely gone," says Daphne.

"That was a wicked party last night, huh? Isn't Harry the cutest Champion in this Tournament?" asks Pansy confidently, eliciting some agreement across the room. "Okay, enough fussing over him. Get out of bed, Mister, and go get cleaned up."

Nodding, Harry heads to the bathroom to freshen up before returning to sit on his bed.

"You really don't need to—"

"Oh shoosh, now roll 'em up." Pansy squeezes a bit of the medicinal brown paste onto her palms before lathering Harry's arms. "And up here too." She leans before the bed to apply some paste to his cheeks, nose, and forehead as well. This is followed by another tight hug before finally letting him stand up.

"Behold the brown fried chicken man," laughs Tracey. "Poor baby."

Their walk through the dormitory tunnels—and eventually the common room—sees Harry greeted with much approval from most of his House. Those supporting Krum can but only be quiet, and keep to themselves, after Harry's performance yesterday. The group of six soon reach the Great Hall where they sit down at their usual seats.

"Good morning, is that not what people are supposed to say to one anuzzer?" Fleur appears fairly proud of herself, for some reason, as Harry sits down beside her.

"Good morning, Fleur. Wait, did I just hear that right? You managed to actually say 'that' and not 'zat', good work."

"Yes, but eet is vairy difficult to maintain and so I will stick to speaking as normal. Maybe we can do more practice again, sometime?"

"Yeah, we sure can, ouch, don't make me smile too much."

"But you are looking very much better today, eef not still resembling ze fried chicken."

"I'm never gonna hear ze end of zis," sighs an amused Harry, before getting on with breakfast. Once finished, he stands up to head for double Transfiguration, but he can hardly resist offering a smile to Fleur, who returns the gesture.

"I 'ope you 'ave a vairy good day today, leetle dragon fighter."

The girls and Harry eventually make their way towards the middle courtyard of the castle, where they soon approach Classroom 1B.

"Had to do that, just felt right," says Harry, in reference to his earlier smile.

Daphne laughs softly beside him as the group steps into the class. "You're so smitten with affection for her. Whether it's actually love or just plain old infatuation, I dunno. Either way, you go and do what you feel is right. But never forget that there's still a Tournament for eternal glory happening here."

Harry, Pansy, Daphne, Millicent, Sally-Anne, and Tracey seem to have arrived noticeably early, seemingly before Professor McGonagall herself. The group of six take their seats near the front right section of the class as they await their peers and Professor.

"Did any of you just hear that?" he asks, eliciting shakes of the head from his girls. "Could've sworn I heard something..."

Pansy, who's seated in the same desk as Harry, soon gives a chortling laugh. "Perhaps the dragon smacked you a tad too much, and now you're hearing things?"

"Oh yeah? Well hear this..." Harry lifts his leg before Pansy hurriedly elbows it back onto the seat.

"Don't you dare! I'm warning you, Potter boy..."

"Just kidding, man, relax. I'll keep my winds to myself. But how do you think I feel if you go and say that I'm mental?" Harry folds his arms before narrowing his eyes at Pansy. What feels like ten minutes later, the rest of the boys enter the classroom, with Malfoy carrying something.

"Hey, Potter. Interesting article about you on the third page of the  _Daily Prophet._  Guess the first two pages had to be used to describe the first task, what a shame. Seems you've just got up a bit too early to get the news." He then tosses the rolled up newspaper which is caught by Tracey, and now read aloud by Daphne:

**HARRY POTTER: WHERE DOES HE TRULY BELONG?**

_By: Rita Skeeter_

_We've all heard the tales of Slytherin's daring young hero, including the Hungarian Horntail event described in my earlier article. But does that not make us wonder whether he might be in the wrong Hogwarts House?_

_Though his emerald eyes hold much cunning, and his young figure be draped in robes of green, does he truly belong in Slytherin?_

_He's dashing, daring, chivalrous, and brave... spot the traits of, shall we say, Gryffindor House there, perhaps?_

_Deep beneath the hardened exterior, beneath the will and courage to take down a Horntail on the loose, no doubt lies a little boy longing for his parents. Tears may fill those startling green eyes when he thinks of his parents. Perhaps he wishes he were in Gryffindor, and that may have influenced his decision to participate in the Triwizard Tournament._

_For you see, Harry Potter is surely a troubled young man lost in a House not of his parents. Our brave young celebrity having displayed such defiance in the face of one of the worst dragons around speaks volumes indeed. He's a void of loneliness and despair, the likes of which attracts girls of all kinds to comfort and fill the gaps in his heart._

_But can anything mend the guilt of the Boy-Who-Lived not being where we've all expected him to be? We can only imagine the tears rolling onto his bedtime pillows, as he contemplates his life's decisions. Fear not, Harry Potter, for you are surely a Gryffindor at heart._

A moment's silence in Classroom 1B is soon broken by Harry roaring with much laughter at the sappy article.

"Oh, this is gold indeed! How the hell did she manage to cobble together such a piece without even interviewing me? I guess you're right, Pansy, Rita Skeeter truly is a masterful writer..."

"What is she playing at writing something like  _this_?" asks Pansy incredulously. "I'm usually a big fan of hers, and enjoy her savage pieces, but this is... I dunno."

"It's the truth," says Nott, who's standing beside a few desks behind Harry. "I've always said you'd be better off in Gryffindor. I mean, your Mudblood pal Granger is there anyway. Slytherins don't associate themselves with such filth, Potter."

"Nott." Harry stands up before drawing his wand. "The article said absolutely nothing about blood status. So how about you learn how to read and listen before putting your pathetic excuse for a brain to task?"

"You're a pathetic excuse for a Slytherin, even the  _Daily Prophet_  is finally acknowledging it now."

Harry suddenly bursts out into fits of laughter. "Hold on, something tells me that you've spoken to Rita about this, am I right?"

"Someone needs to testify to the stupidity of you being in this great House. Took you long enough to figure that out," retorts Nott.

"Oh, my bad, sorry." The expression on Harry's face conveys no sense of apology whatsoever. "It's just that she didn't mention you at all. I'm pretty sure when someone gives input to a reporter then they get mentioned..."

"Think you're pretty smart, eh?"

Nott's retaliation is cut short by the girls, who all begin clapping in a most sarcastic manner before Pansy speaks.

"He's so smart! Oh my gosh but maybe you belong in Ravenclaw, Harry."

"No, he's as loyal as a Hufflepuff," adds a sniggering Millicent. "Here, little badger."

"Or he's actually in Gryffindor, but having been planted as a spy here by Professor McGonagall all these years!" laughs Sally-Anne.

"Oh no!" Harry pretends to look utterly shocked. "My cover is now blown and I can no longer report to my true Head of House. However, all the juicy info I've been leaking to Professor McGonagall hasn't been in vain! We Gryffindors are poised to invade and occupy the Slytherin common room at any minute. MWAHAHAHA! You are all too late to stop the mighty onslaught of HOUSE GRYFFINDOR!"

"Meow."

"Oh, sh—" Harry spins around, wide-eyed (as is everyone else) at the tabby cat having emerged from behind the teacher's desk. Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, and Malfoy now hurry over to their seats while Harry stands still.

"Come on, sit your arse down!" whispers Tracey hoarsely. But before Harry can even move, the cat stands at his shoes before leaping up and swiping the newspaper from his grasp. Then she swiftly tears it to shreds with her claws before turning to look up at Harry.

The latter now reaches into his pocket to withdraw a packet of catnip. "Peace offering, uh, ma'am?"

From looking down, he now looks up as the tabby cat reverts into Professor McGonagall, who's as intimidating as ever. "I sometimes worry about what's going through that head of yours, Mr. Potter. Oh, and you can throw that piece of scandalous rubbish in the bin, thank you."

"Yes, ma'am!" Harry grabs the tattered newspaper before hurrying to the door. Once the  _Daily Prophet_  has been tossed in an outside bin, he races to take his seat at the front of the class. The earlier bit of nonsense talk now makes it rather awkward for Harry to even make eye contact with McGonagall. For he knows this isn't the first time she's seen him do something so playfully silly.

After failing to respond to a question directed at him, Harry finds himself tapped on the shoulder by Pansy.

"McGonagall's talking to you, quit daydreaming!"

"Cat got your tongue, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall gives one of her rare amused expressions in class. "I was asking if you could demonstrate a simple switching spell for your peers, before we move on to cross-species switches."

Harry swiftly stands up before performing the required spell to switch features of a goblet with a teacup beside it.

"Fair enough, two points to Slytherin for reminding us how such a simple spell is done. Unfortunately, there are still certain fourth-years who remain struggling with that spell. Do not ask who I am speaking about."

Throughout the remainder of the lesson, Harry gradually finds it easier to once again make eye contact with McGonagall. By the second period's end, before lunch, Harry's asked to stay for a quick word by the Professor.

"Catch you in the Great Hall, dragon boy," says Daphne, who shuts the door behind her to give Harry and McGonagall their space before lunch. The latter now stands beside her desk, metres from an uncertain Harry.

"How are you feeling, Potter? That was an extraordinary feat for a fourth-year to have accomplished yesterday. I suppose I'm not wrong to guess that you've had a bit of help on that one?"

He smiles guiltily before responding, "I'm okay, though these burns do hurt a fair bit. Should be gone soon, according to Madam Pomfrey. Uhm, no comment on the second question, ma'am."

"Don't be foolish with me. I'm guessing that Professor Moody might have helped you with that shield charm. Because it's certainly rare to see someone at your age perform it that well, especially considering your rather poor first two Defence Against the Dark Arts Professors."

"No offence, Professor, but I don't want Angelina Johnson being informed about my tactics. There's a lot of pride at stake between Gryffindor and Slytherin here."

"Very clever of you, Potter. But... do keep yourself safe out there. We still don't know who entered your name, or why you're even in this Tournament in the first place," says McGonagall, before Harry greets and leaves.

The start of lunch break sees Harry (to his amusement) carried into the Great Hall atop the shoulders of Flint and Warrington, who incite Harry's supporters to hail their 'kick arse' Champion. However, most of said support still seems predominantly Slytherin, as few other Houses wish to cheer Harry on. He notes that Warrington seems especially glad to have a Slytherin in the Tournament, considering that the latter's lost out to Angelina in the draw of the Goblet.

Upon reaching the centre of the Hall, Harry leaps off from the shoulders of his teammates before making a dramatic bow. The gesture earns him much applause from his (still relatively small) amount of supporters as glimmers of green badges flash across the Slytherin table. He then seems to have dismissed the article by Skeeter, as his status of a Slytherin certainly appears to have held up well.

"You are such a playful leetle boy, eet is most cute," says a giggling Fleur, once Harry's sat down beside her at the end of the table.

"Hi to you too." Harry dishes up lunch for himself, since Herbology with the Ravenclaws would be their third and final class of today. Meanwhile, he also looks in the direction of Gryffindor, who remain fervently discussing yesterday's events.

"Zey can gossip all zey like but what is done is done. Eet is not my fault zat zeir Quidditch player could not afford ze proper broom to evade ze Long'orn," says Fleur smugly. "Truth be told, we Champions did actually get to see each uzzer's performances from ze medical tent. So Krum and Johnson both got to see our performances. I am not worried about Alyssa because she is not so much ze enemy 'ere."

"Keep talking, yes, I so much love your voice..." Harry stuffs himself while happily listening to Fleur's relentless complaints about practically everything.

"He's a keeper for sure, Fleur, and I'm not talking about Quidditch," says a chortling Tracey.

"By the way, Harry, why in the heck did you have catnip on you today? Don't tell me you specifically brought it for McGonagall!?" asks Millicent.

"Huh, what? No!" He tosses the packet to her. "It's for your cat."

"Oh, thanks. Spooky's gonna love this."

"Hermione's cat is smarter," laughs Harry. "Never mind, it's an unfair comparison since hers is half-kneazle."

"Weird just like her," scoffs Millicent.

"You are my cat," says Fleur, while patting Harry on the head. "Just joking."

An hour later, the fourth year Slytherins arrive at the greenhouses for their joint session with Ravenclaw. Much of the first few minutes of class involve discussing Harry's fight with the dragon, and Fleur's suspicious use of his Firebolt. But he gives no comment before Professor Sprout a finally gets her class underway. By the lesson's end, she gives Harry a brief bit of congratulations on his unexpectedly great performance.

Since there's no fourth class on Wednesdays for fourth-year Slytherin, and their Gryffindor counterparts, Harry reckons he's bound to see them now. But while walking near the middle courtyard, he soon realizes that nobody's mentioned his use of the Cruciatus Curse. Harry wonders if it was really so weak as to not be noticed, or if the dragon had obscured much of the audience's view of the spell.

"What's got you so deep in thought, hmm?" asks Pansy, as the group of six now walk across the grass of the courtyard.

"Oh, uh, I gotta pay back 80 Galleons to Bagman for his tips regarding the task. He's a notable reason why I managed to take the Horntail down," says Harry. Although he's lied about pondering the Cruciatus Curse, he does note that Bagman still needs to be repaid.

"He'll understand if you don't have the coin on you now. Bagman will just have to wait until Christmas holidays for us to stop by Gringotts," says Pansy.

"Darn, I hate dealing with those goblins..." sighs Harry, before the group take their seats against a sizable tree. "So, who are we cheering for this Saturday? Ravenclaw or Gryffindor?"

"Don't care about either of them. I would've said Ravenclaw had their Captain not been trying to charm my cousin," replies Pansy.

Their conversation is interrupted as Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Roger Malone approach to speak to Harry, who's already stood up.

"Hey, Potter, thanks for making the Tournament more difficult for Angelina," says Seamus coldly. "That hot Fleur girl's got you right where she wants, just saying."

Dean steps forward. "Ginny didn't wanna risk her Nimbus, but oh-so-rich-kid Harry Potter goes and cheats in the task. Bet you people knew about it before, eh? Planned it all nice and good?"

"They definitely cheated their way to the top, both of 'em," says Malone. "You know what they say about crime?"

"Oh shut up," quips Harry irritably. "I'm pretty sure Angelina even knew about the dragons, am I right? What? No response? Guilty as charged then. I can do whatever the hell I want in this Tournament because fact is that somebody else put my name in."

"Alright then," says Seamus. "Go ahead and cheat your way through the Tournament, but Gryffindor's gonna win the Quidditch Cup fair and square this year. Ginny's already ready to beat Cho Chang to the snitch. You scared of her yet?"

"He should be, because Ginny's on fire this year," says Dean. "Like them football teams when they're on form and winning the league."

Harry suddenly grins wickedly while standing face-to-face with Dean. "Funny you should say that. I heard you're a West Ham supporter. Must be feeling pretty confident now that The Hammers are in the new Premier League, hmm? Sucks that you finished 13th last season..."

"Shut your mouth!" says Dean angrily. "Don't you dare talk about my football team like that, who do you support then, huh, Potter?"

"Pfft,  _Muggle_  talk again," sniggers Daphne, as the girls watch the argument unfold. "Let us know when you're done discussing men kicking balls on the ground..."

Meanwhile, Harry remains facing Dean. "That's my secret, but we kick arse. Fitting team for a star sportsman like myself."

"Hmm you're probably a United or Liverpool supporter, yeah, got the arrogance to be one of either..." says Dean, as he tries to assess the smirking Slytherin.

"I'm not saying," responds Harry, while shrugging his shoulders.

"Come on, Dean, let's not argue footy with this Triwizard cheater," says Malone, who soon leads the trio away from the scoffing Harry. Once the latter turns around to sit again, he spots Pansy softly laughing at him.

"You throw and catch balls in the air but argue over men kicking them on the ground? So silly, now sit and be quiet."

"Yes, ma'am." Harry swiftly sits down to lay across her lap while she strokes his hair. "My little Pansy."

The rest of the week proves rather uneventful, even double Potions on Friday where Harry faces the Gryffindor class for the first time since the first task. They certainly seem too preoccupied to confront him over the suspicious performances on Tuesday. It also helps that the dungeons seem even colder than usual, now that winter's around the corner.

Soon, Saturday morning arrives to see Harry up and early, while silently searching for Ginny on the Marauder's Map. Once he's spotted her, he conceals the map then freshens up before making his way to the entrance hall.

"Hi," he greets, upon descending the marble steps as Ginny's about to head into the Great Hall.

"Hmph, good morning. So, how's your Phlegm doing?"

"Huh? My chest is clear, no worries there," replies Harry, before Ginny gives a dry laugh. Her expression seemingly disappointed.

"I've heard how your new sweetheart speaks:  _Oh 'Arry, 'ow I so much like your 'air today. Zis wairzer is so cold._ What? You like them older and foreign or something? Us normal folks getting too dull for you now?"

"Why the hostility? Fleur's a great person once you get to know her."

"But I don't want to get to know her. None of us do, because she's not only a condescending prat but also the opposition. The enemy who you've no doubt helped secure joint first place. What a  _sucker_  you are, no offence intended."

Harry finds himself taken aback by the unexpectedly stern look on Ginny's face now. "Man, you're claws out and all for Fleur. You must really hate her then, or are you jealous that she's hanging out with me?"

Ginny scoffs, shoves open the door, and then suddenly smiles quite coldly. "I didn't say that, no. But she's the type of girl that'd really get on mum's nerves, and mum's usually an understanding person."

As the pair of Seekers enter the partially-filled Great Hall, Harry turns to look at Ginny once more. "And here I was going to wish you good luck against Chang today. Now I'm more concerned that you'll be trying to almost kill me up there when it's our match."

"Let me be kind enough to give you a warning, this is top secret stuff indeed." Ginny stops Harry from walking farther, before she whispers. "Don't you _dare_ tell anyone that I've given you a heads up, but Angelina's really taken the first task hard. She's fuming over Fleur upstaging her with your obvious help. Expect heavy retaliation from Gryffindor's part."

"Am I supposed to believe that you'd just so easily tip me off? What? They gonna attack me or something?"

"Nobody's gonna attack you, so don't get all paranoid like Moody. Let's just say that Viktor Krum's also a bit upset over you and Fleur conspiring in this Tournament. I'll give you a hint as to what's eventually coming your way: you won't be flying against me in Gryffindor vs. Slytherin this year."

Harry's eyes suddenly widen. "No way Angelina would go that far!?"

After looking around to see if they're being watched, Ginny nods to Harry. "Yes way, and there's no problem bringing one outside teenager to play on our team this year. In fact, Professor Dumbledore actually seemed pleased with the idea, though Angelina asked him to keep it secret."

"But, really, why are you telling me all this? It's a hectic chance for you Gryffindors to smash Slytherin and probably win the Cup?"

For the first time today, Ginny flashes a sincere smile at Harry before responding. "Maybe I don't want the biggest ego in the school to be shocked and deflated like that. It would be a nasty surprise for you if you expected me, but ended up seeing Krum amongst the Lions."

"Um, thanks a lot, Ginny. And sorry if me being with Fleur is upsetting you girls..."

"Heh, she's only gonna be around for one year. Now remember not to tell anyone that I warned you about the Gryffindor surprise. Please."

"I'll certainly be prepared for it now, and if anyone gets suspicious afterwards then I'll just say I heard it going around," says Harry.

"Well, go and gallivant around with Phlegm then. But, good luck against Viktor, Harry. Even  _you_  are really, really, really gonna need it..."

"I really, really, really needed luck to kill the Basilisk and it came. So don't count me out just yet." Harry exchanges a rather awkward smile with Ginny before each head off to their separate tables. By breakfast's end, as the rest of the school (and exchange students) make their way to the Quidditch stadium, Harry silently calls his girls aside. They now speak in hushed tones on the castle's slopes as Harry briefs them on Ginny's warning.

"She could be lying to throw you off. Perhaps she's got some devastating new strategy to test out on match day," says Tracey.

"No, I know Ginny kinda well enough already to tell this is certainly the truth. It does make sense for Krum to mutually benefit from this deal with Johnson. Gryffindor gets the win, and I get my pride battered with shock and defeat. That's one top Champion then affected in the Tournament."

"So why'd she warn you, then?" asks Millicent, who stands blocking most of the cold wind from hitting Harry.

"Because it's so obvious that she's still crushing on me. Love can make people do great—but also silly—things at times. Just keep this Krum thing a top secret between us, alright?"

"Yeah,  _love_  can make people do great things like record Viktor Krum's skills all match long for Harry Potter," says Pansy. "And here's your chance to show you're no pushover. Even better now that everyone's gonna think you've been caught off guard."

"They won't think that because I've got something sneaky up my sleeve as well. Gonna consult with Marcus about this..." Harry grins mischievously as the girls glance questioningly at him.

"There's the naughty-Harry look again, so what have you got planned this time, huh?" asks Sally-Anne.

"A certain Puddlemere United reserve Keeper owes me for getting him all that new equipment. State-of-the-art Keeper gear and Nimbus 2001, in case you've forgotten. I'm sure he won't be too pleased to hear how sneaky his old team seems to be getting. Angelina Johnson thinks she's hot stuff now that she's stepped up to Captain, eh? I say different!"

Pansy and Daphne now can't help but laugh before the latter speaks. "Oh my gosh you sly thing! Are you speaking about Oliver Wood? No way he'd oblige your request to come and play a game for Slytherin, that's so silly! Even more so against his own team that he's spent years building up."

"As much as Oliver so wanted Gryffindor to win, he'd never resort to such foul, sly tactics like that. Even Marcus agreed that Oliver's one of the best, and fairest, Captains he's taken on. This Krum thing is a sour trick to play on us!" Harry now nods thoughtfully. "Besides, Oliver's new aim in life is to work his way up the Puddlemere United squad. What better way to improve his list of accomplishments than to be on the team that defeats Viktor Krum's? He will most definitely see reason enough to take this opportunity."

"You are one cunning bastard, Harry James Potter," says Sally-Anne. "The shock on the Lions' faces when they see who's in goal against them will speak for itself."

"Bletchley will also understand, he's a reasonable Keeper that knows Oliver's the superior option for that match. Now then, let's go before we miss the opening of today's one," says Harry, who leads the group of six towards the Slytherin spectator stands.

 


	22. Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw

Ludo Bagman provides the commentary for today's match of Gryffindor against Ravenclaw, which proves to be quite an eagerly anticipated contest from both sides.

"Alright, so I've been told that this is pretty much the same Gryffindor line-up from last year, with two exceptions: Triwizard Champion, Angelina Johnson, is now Captain while Cormac McLaggen starts in Keeper. Otherwise, the rest is still the same: We've got the Weasley twins as Beaters while Johnson, Katie Bell, and Alicia Spinnet are Chasers. Looks like Ginny Weasley's playing Seeker. Seems that after the Gryffindor Champion's unfortunate loss of broom, the team's had an upgrade. Everyone's ditched their Cleansweep Fives for model Sevens, while Ginny remains with her Nimbus 2000."

The crowd appears to be somewhat equally split between supporting the two, as most of Hufflepuff sides with Gryffindor, while Slytherin sides with Ravenclaw for today. A few exceptions exist but pale in comparison compared to majority of the crowd voicing their support this morning.

"Looks like we're in for another Nimbus show today, though not as much as the previous match. Anyway, Ravenclaw starts as follows: Chasers are Captain Roger Davies, Randolph Burrow, and Jeremy Stretton. Duncan Inglebee, and Jason Samuels start as Beaters while Grant Page plays in Keeper. I spot Cleansweep Sevens being flown here as well! Here comes the Nimbus show: Cho Chang plays in Seeker with a Nimbus 1700. What's the name now again... ah, Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff has borrowed it to her. Fair play, lad."

The wind seems to have picked up a fair bit while the pitch remains soaked from an earlier downpour. But the skies have certainly cleared up since then as both teams stand in the centre of the pitch.

"Captains, shake hands," declares Madam Hooch before Angelina and Davies do as told. "Mount your brooms and get ready."

"Nice broom, seems your boyfriend's looking out for you today. Well, sorry to disappoint but you're not beating me. Fair play for trying to level the odds somewhat, though." Ginny swings her leg over the Nimbus 2000, gifted last year by none other than Harry Potter himself.

"Cedric's a really nice guy, perhaps your Harry friend can learn some manners from him?" asks Chang, somewhat teasingly as she mounts the Nimbus 1700. "I wonder what dirty tricks he's got up his sleeve against us this year?"

"How about you mind your own bloody business? Thanks, Chang."

"Getting awfully defensive there, aren't we? I'm just stating the odds, Ginny."

"Well, the  _odds_  are that your Nimbus sucks compared to this one, hahaha!"

"That's not very nice of you. Now you're acting as cocky as Harry himself."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Madam Hooch soon interrupts the little quarrel. "There's a match about to start, so cease your bickering already and get into the air."

Both Seekers now rise upwards as the whistle is blown, with Ginny deciding to fly high to survey as much as she can. Her gaze alternates between watching Chang, searching for the Snitch, and keeping a lookout for Bludgers.

"Heeeeeeeere they go! Johnson speeds to grab the Quaffle first, passes up and over Stretton to reach Bell on the left side of the field. Bell goes forward, down the left side to link up with Spinnet coming in through the middle. Goodness me, that was some neat play as the three Chasers have already broken through the Ravenclaw trio to reach the Keeper. Ease up there, ladies, one Chaser at a time only or else it's called Stooging the Keeper. Quaffle tossed to Johnson in the centre, she goes forward, shoots to the right... dive by Page who narrowly misses as Johnson SCORES! Ten-Zero to House Gryffindor!"

The crowd goes wild with cheers and applause for Angelina's swift opening goal. Whether it's her name or 'True Champ' being chanted, those in favour of Hogwarts' first Champion make themselves heard indeed. Meanwhile, Ginny evades a Budger sent from below, checks to see if Madam Hooch is watching, then retaliates with gesturing a middle finger to Samuels. Her searching flight path soon takes her past the Gryffindor stands where she incites the crowd to cheer louder, and they briefly chant her name.

"Burrow moves forward with the Quaffle in hand, narrowly dodges, uh... Fred? George? Someone's Bludger sent his way before passing to the Ravenclaw Skipper. Davies rolls left in the centre of the pitch to avoid Spinnet, passes to Stretton who links up with Burrow on the right side of the field. Weasley twins converging on one Bludger now as they look for the Dopplebeater defence..."

Still no sign of the Golden Snitch as Ginny now takes to flying past the Slytherin section of the crowd. The hostility of these stands means little to her, compared to the fact that he's watching. Harry Potter would surely be somewhere in this crowd and hopefully not participating in the loud jeers directed at her. Or perhaps he's too preoccupied thinking about Phlegm, with her fancy accent, alluring dance, and years of experience.

_"WEASLEY STINKS, AND GRYFFINDOR SHOULD JUST GIVE UP. BECAUSE THEIR CHAMPION WILL NEVER GET THE CUP!"_

Ginny defiantly holds her head high while hovering past the crowd. Then she swerves on the spot, letting her lengthy red hair swish about for  _that_  one boy to see, and decides to search for the Snitch elsewhere. Tilting the tip of the Nimbus 2000 upwards, she climbs higher to try and spot the glimmer of gold, somewhere. Her distance from the action means Ginny's unable to hear what's happening through the steadily increasing wind. Sometime later, she descends upon the stadium to try a different strategy of weaving between the players while continuing her search.

"...Johnson passes to Bell who smacks that one cleanly through the left hoop, GOAL! FIFTY-TWENTY IN FAVOUR OF GRYFFINDOR SO FAR!"

It catches Ginny's eye immediately: a glint of gold, ironically, near the Slytherin stands.

"Here we go! Weasley's spotted the Snitch and she's off! Chang coming in hot on her tail now, but the Nimbus 2000 still boasts a bit of a boost over the dated 1700. Don't count either of them out though, as they're both still fine racing brooms indeed."

They fly side-by-side behind the Snitch as both Seekers jostle each other while in pursuit. Chang nudges her aside before Ginny returns the gesture in addition to taking the next turn at a better angle. This allows the latter to stay on the Snitch's path at a slight advantage as they race through the middle right section of the pitch. With a wintery wind blasting against the Seeker's faces, Chang turns to speak.

"Why don't you tie your hair up? Still trying to impress Harry Potter?"

"Shut up! Like I said: mind your own bloody business. Harry likes my hair, I know he does, and I certainly love that jet black of his. Now piss off and stop trying to throw me off my game!" Ginny notes that they're out of Madam Hooch's view, and so she sneaks in an elbow to Chang's side.

"Ow! What the heck?"

"Nobody screws or talks rubbish with me like that," replies Ginny angrily as the pair swerve to follow the Snitch near the bottom of the Gryffindor goalposts. "How's Diggory? Still thinks he's Mister Handsome?"

They halt to turn 180 degrees as the Snitch spins around the right goalpost, too swiftly for either to reach in time. But their bit of banter doesn't seem to let up anytime soon. Even through the wind hitting them in the face, and ears, both Seekers hurl witty remarks between each other.

"What do you mean 'thinks'? Cedric's totally a handsome guy, from his looks to his behaviour. Not like Harr—"

"Harry's far prettier than the overrated Diggory. Cedric doesn't have those wonderful green eyes now does he?"

"He's quite taller and more charming."

"Big friggin deal, I'll bet he never survived a Killing Curse nor took down a dragon or basilisk. Come on, Chang, I can list so many reasons why your boyfriend is dog dung compared to Harry. What's your hate towards him anyway?" Ginny performs a rolling manoeuvre over Chang as they now fly near the ground towards the centre of the pitch.

"You speak so highly of someone who resorts to dirty tricks, like breaking away from Chaser to interrupt me from winning the game. I don't like him," retorts Chang bitterly.

"Oh cry me a river, will you? Harry's a Champion and Diggory is not. That shows who's better, now shut the bloody hell up while I go on to win this match." Ginny makes a pretend gesture of spitting towards Chang, as they now begin to climb while steadily gaining on the Snitch.

"As much as I'd hate to say something like this, but you're really a bitch, sorry," says Chang.

"This fine bitch is one of the best Seekers Gryffindor's ever had. I own this position like a Queen, so deal with it or go back to the library where Ravenclaws belong."

"Harry Potter's not even interested in you, just so you know."

If Madam Hooch wasn't eyeing the pair from metres away, Ginny would surely elbow her again. "Like you know anything about him. Stick to overrated amateurs, thanks, git."

One glance behind lets Ginny spot Madam Hooch's divided attention, and so she barges Chang aside before banking left to gain on the Snitch. She knows that it's getting closer with each second, while elsewhere the game seems to have heated up.

"... it's put in by ROGER DAVIES again! The Captain has certainly stepped up his game as the score is now EIGHTY-SIXTY, with Gryffindor slowly losing their grip on this game! Quaffle goes from McLaggen—who's made some fine saves so far—to Johnson. Johnson to Spinnet as the Chasers form up in an attacking formation now. Here they go, head-on with the Ravenclaw trio in the middle left flank of the pitch. Bludgers coming in hot, deflected by one of the twins, sent back towards Inglebee who evades, Quaffle taken by Burrow once more as Ravenclaw seems certain to score..."

A chance glance left at the Ravenclaw stands has Ginny narrowly failing to spot the Phlegm girl. She'd so wish to show  _her_  own flying skills to the girl who's barely made any effort to get Harry Potter. Is it perhaps her more developed figure that has him so taken by her? What do they do with one another in private? Ginny can only shove aside such thoughts as she now closes in on the Snitch.

"...great save from McLaggen to deny Burrow that goal! Gryffindor's new Keeper seems to be proving his worth to the team so far. Quaffle passed to Bell who spins around to head down the right flank. Teammates coming in on her left, Weasley flying to send that Bludger towards Stretton. Bell's going for goal... SCORED!..."

Chang seems to have gained on Ginny as the pair descend through a rather sharp turn while right on the Snitch. Then, as Burrow beats McLaggen to the left post, Ginny takes both hands off her broom and knocks Chang aside. She soon pulls out of the dive and raises her hand in the air, the Snitch's wings beating hopelessly against her fingers as Gryffindor's supporters roar with cheers.

"It's all over as Ginny Weasley's caught the Snitch! That puts the final score on 240-60 in favour of GRYFFINDOR! Now let's take a look at the standings after our first two matches thus far..."

To everyone—including Ginny's—delight, the same fiery words used in the first task now appears in the air. Hovering high above the centre of the pitch, and visible to all, the words read as follows:

_Gryffindor 240_

_Slytherin 200_

_Hufflepuff 70_

_Ravenclaw 60_

_Next: Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw (05/12)_

While the crowd expresses a variety of joy, outrage, and cheers, Chang flies right up beside Ginny. The latter now turning to look at her.

"That's next Saturday, Chang. Guess you Eagles are hard-pressed for time and practice now. Harry's going to run all over you," says Ginny.

"It's a team game, and I'll bet Harry's playing Chaser because he's just so scared of Draco Malfoy."

"Scared?"

"It's so obvious for us to see. Why does Slytherin insist on playing Malfoy as Seeker when Harry's clearly the superior option? Come on, they've been flying those Nimbus 2001's since second year, and Malfoy got on the team in third," says Chang, while the teams gradually dismount their brooms on the ground.

"Don't blame Harry for Malfoy buying his way onto the team," argues Ginny. "It's not his fault that he's had to adapt to a new position."

"Well, Cedric would've beaten Malfoy had Harry not interfered. He won't get away with that again because Malfoy can't get so lucky in every game. He's the slightly weaker link in the team and it's certainly going to show next week, mark my words," says Chang, as she heads towards the Ravenclaw locker room beneath their stands.

"Bitch." Ginny mutters under her breath while leaving to enter the Gryffindor locker room. As soon as she steps in, Angelina pulls an Oliver Wood tactic by fervently reviewing today's match. Her status as Champion only further pressurizing her to succeed this year.

"Fred, George, those were some neat stuff today, keep it up."

"Finally, she throws a compliment," laughs Fred, who soon finds himself on the receiving end of the Captain's glare.

"Be quiet! Now, we've gotta prepare for the 19th against Hufflepuff. The walls might have ears, if you know what I mean, so let's not discuss  _the plan_  against Slytherin. Although I must admit that it's neat to take them on last instead of first, as we usually do," says Angelina, while standing at the blackboard in the locker room.

"Davies really surprised us today, didn't he?" asks Katie, who sits beside Ginny on a bench.

"I'll bet he was motivated to impress that Parkinson Champion today," says Alicia. "I doubt Harry would have liked seeing Davies get all flirty with his friend's cousin."

"Forget about Potter, we'll deal with him when the time comes," sighs Angelina. "Now then, Katie and Alicia you ladies played fine today. But we can do better with the Quaffle, especially as shown when Davies started getting more aggressive. We need to balance our offence and defence instead of focusing too much on the attack."

"Alright," says Katie.

"Fair enough, we'll just get in more defensive practice over the week. When the pitch isn't being booked out..." Alicia's statement draws an annoyed look from Angelina.

"It's already been booked throughout this week, so we'll have to wait. Tomorrow, Tuesday, and Thursday evenings have been booked by the Snakes while Monday, Wednesday, and Friday is Ravenclaw. We could try for midday tomorrow but let's rather focus on our work, plus I've still gotta figure out this screaming golden egg."

"I wonder if any of the other Champions have figured theirs out yet?" asks McLaggen, who's finally decided to speak before being assessed by Angelina.

"Never mind them, let's continue: Cormac, you did well for your first match."

"Still got a ways to go before you're half as good as Oliver was, no offence," quips George, before seeing Angelina gesturing her fist to him. "Right, sure, we shall all keep silent for the mighty Captain to speak."

"All hail her Majesty Champion new Captain—"

"If the two of you don't shut it then I might have to organize tryouts for new Beaters..." says Angelina sternly.

"Come on, Skipper, you'd never do that to us," laughs Fred.

After giggling at her brothers annoying Angelina, Ginny eventually speaks. "You don't need to review me, because I just _know_ that I was so good out there today."

"You're not a prat like Potter so don't act like him. Arrogance gets you nowhere, but as for your performance I'd say you've done a good job out there today," replies Angelina.

"Isn't that was I just said?" Ginny shrugs her shoulders while grinning smugly. Her expression draws a slight scowl from Angelina, though Ginny knows she's the best Seeker for the team. With the exception of the Captain's nasty little 'surprise' against Slytherin, Gryffindor doesn't have anyone good enough to fill this position. Once the post-match talk has finished, the team makes their way to the showers. But McLaggen's constant glimpses in Ginny's direction has her groaning in annoyance.

"Boys' shower is that way, in case you've forgotten."

"No rule against joining us now, is there?"

"I suggest you hurry up before I let Fred and George know you're trying to hit on me."

"But Potter can? What do you see in that little prat?"

"None of your business, Keeper. Try your 'charms' elsewhere, thanks. But speaking of joining me, let's just say that I wouldn't mind Harry doing that. Sorry to disappoint you, big boy." Ginny scoffs at the disappointed McLaggen before she enters the girls' showers. After thoroughly freshening up from having to manoeuvre all morning on a broom (which isn't as easy as most might think), she puts on a clean set of clothes. One look in a nearby mirror has her smiling before deciding to leave her hair untied. 'Great match with your Quidditch robes' as Harry had once said, which she gladly remembers to this day.

With everything in order, Ginny returns to the mostly-empty locker room where she walks into a noisy firecracker that makes her jump. "Argh, you bloody..."

Much laughter comes from the twins as they exit the stadium to go wherever they feel like spending the rest of the day. Meanwhile, Ginny stomps on the spent firecracker until it's nothing but dirt on the ground before she exits the stadium too. With most of the crowd already having been dispersed, it comes as a real surprise to see none other than Harry himself standing on the slopes ahead. He appears to be alone and seemingly waiting for Ginny, who smiles upon approaching him. But she does wonder just how he always manages to find her wherever she is.

"Nice game today," says Harry, looking at her with those eyes as green as a fresh pickled toad. Though truth be told, Ginny finds it even more irresistible when they're paired with the green lining of his robes.

"Why, thank you! Getting awfully friendly again aren't we? Hmm... I wonder why? Phlegm not good enough for you anymore?"

Harry laughs, that usual one which always gets to Ginny. "It's _Fleur_... oh who am I kidding? You're doing that on purpose, well, very funny. I noticed you and Chang had a bit of a row on the ground and in the air?"

"Oh, that"—Ginny forces herself to stifle a blush—"was nothing really. Um, Quidditch stuff, yes. I wish you could play Seeker next week, really."

"So your  _secret weapon_  can view my skills behind the Snitch? Nice try, little Miss Red-Hair."

Her heart skips a beat from the remark, though she keeps her straight face. "Not like he hasn't seen some of your Seeker skills already. You did go holding off Diggory in that match anyway. No, I just feel like watching you catch the Snitch again."

"Oh don't worry, there's still plenty more matches for that. You may have fled in terror from me this year but we've still got time. My fifth, sixth, and seventh years means three more Gryffindor versus Slytherin matches to beat you to the Snitch, little lion," says Harry smugly, which has Ginny biting on her lip.

"Hmph, I don't think so!" She folds her arms and now puts on an air of haughtiness. "I'm gonna beat you to the Snitch. So, I take it you're playing Chaser against Ravenclaw again? Letting Malfoy go after the Snitch?"

"Malfoy and I haven't been on much speaking terms since the Triwizard draw. I haven't even bothered flying with him anymore in practice."

With a nod to the right, Harry gestures for Ginny to walk beside him back to the castle, which she certainly obliges. "I'd have thought those boys would stop hating on you after that insane first task. Speaking of which, glad to see you're looking better again. Was getting worried about those burns."

"I'm too  _hot_  to burn"—Harry's exaggerated arrogance has Ginny giggling for a bit—"But yeah, I've rather been avoiding those gits like the plague. Haters aren't healthy at all."

"But don't you share a room with them?"

"Let's just say we don't have the same defensive enchantments as your common room. And yes, I've been in there, don't ask how."

Harry's statement has Ginny glancing at him with a slight bit of surprise. "Now bloody way! Are you telling me that you're sleeping in the..."

"Fourth-year girls' room, yep. Now don't go telling that around to everyone. You keep this shut and I'll keep quiet about your little tipoff, deal?" asks Harry, as they now cross the wooden bridge together.

"And when the match is done, what's stopping me from I dunno... letting it slip?" Ginny gasps as Harry so swiftly puts his finger on her lip.

"Because you wouldn't wanna bring that much shame to me now, eh? Holding me for blackmail? How cute." He then smiles before putting his hands in his pockets as they continue to walk side-by-side. "What? Got no comeback, huh, Seeker-girl?"

Ginny would speak but soon finds herself faced with an uncomfortable feeling in her chest as a familiar face stands in the courtyard ahead.

"I 'ad almost zought you 'ad gotten lost in ze beeg crowd, leetle 'Arry—"

"Who are you calling little? Condescending bit—"

"Whoa, calm down, Ginny, calm down!" says Harry hurriedly, while Fleur folds her arms and gives an overly cute smile. One that has Ginny battling to suppress drawing her wand. But she simply smiles back before thinking up a sneaky way to get her back.

"Would you like to spend ze afternoon walking around? I do not mi—"

"Ahem." Ginny suppresses her laughter while so obtrusively clearing her throat.

"That sounds great, yeah," replies Harry, before Fleur speaks again.

"Zen we shall be off and walk mayb—"

"Ahem."

"Ginny..." Harry turns to give her a warning look, and she smiles a slight bit at him.

"What is wrong with your friend over zere? She seems to be 'aving a problem with 'er throat?"

"Uh, don't worry about it," replies Harry, who smiles.

"Well she seems a bit strange to me, I zink. 'Ow about we go and see what ze uzzer students might be doing at zis hour around ze cast—"

"Ahem."

"Get zat chest sorted out zen, eef it is bozering you so much. Take ze Pepper-Up Potion or somezing."

Ginny withholds her mischievous little laugh. "Sorry, I just have a bit of a  _Phlegm_ problem, you see?"

"I do not see any phlegm now," replies Fleur confusedly.

"I certainly do," quips Ginny. "Well, Harry, I guess I'll be off now. Hope you have a lovely rest of Saturday."

"Thanks, you too. Don't forget to finish whatever homework and stuff there is, and also kick back and relax."

Ginny offers Harry a genuine smile—and a fake one to Fleur—before walking across the courtyard and back inside the castle. Sighing at having her moment with Harry cut short, she decides upon heading up to the common room to finish her Herbology mini-essay.

Meanwhile, Harry continues to enjoy the rest of his day in the company of friends both foreign and from Slytherin.

 


	23. Dancing and a Dream

_Friday, December 4th, 1994, 18h00._

How the previous week has simply flown by is anyone's guess, but the fourth-year Slytherins now find themselves in a cleared classroom. Eleven chairs lined against the wall are occupied by the students who have been told to meet up at this hour. Their bellies may be full of dinner, and their brains crammed from a hectic week of coursework, but when Professor Snape gives an order they certainly do obey.

From left to right, the students sit as follows: Nott, Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, Sally-Anne, Millicent, Tracey, Daphne, Pansy, and Harry. The last of whom now yawns widely from the fifteen-minute wait so far in this classroom.

"Why are we all just sitting here like a bunch of school children?"

"Uh, Harry, that's exactly what we still are," replies Pansy amusingly. "Relax and feel the joys of a nice, chilly Friday evening."

"Wake me up when he gets here," yawns Daphne, before leaning to rest her head on Tracey's left shoulder. The latter now deciding to yawn as well before it soon spreads right down all the way to Nott.

"Where is the Professor? I could've been drawing up some new Gobstones tactics to use against that Duffer who beat me the other day..." says Nott irritably as the evening's wait continues.

"Yeah, this is time I could've used to practice on some Chess moves. Can't believe I even got into that stupid match with a disgrace like Weasley," sighs Zabini, before Malfoy sniggers.

"How could you lose to him? Of all the people in this school you let Ronald Weasley go and checkmate you? God, I'd never live with myself until getting some revenge."

While the rest of the boys poke fun and discuss various schooling events among each other, Harry appears ready to fall asleep. He leans forward, jerks his head back, then does the same over and over again until Pansy looks at him. With a mixture of empathy and amusement on her behalf, she soon puts his head on her shoulder. Her rather lengthy bob bangs now rest on his cheek as he tries to close his eyes.

"Always so tired this time, shame, must be a tough year for you, huh?"

"Yeah," replies Harry softly. "Between Quidditch practice, preparations to take on Krum, doing extra prepping for the Tournament, and all this schoolwork, I'm knackered as hell. When I become Captain one day, you'll see just how surprisingly tiring Quidditch practice can be. It's not just about flying a broom. Arms, legs, core, mental awareness... everything's gotta be on point."

"Yes I already know all that, less tiring practice makes for weaker players." Pansy tilts her head to the left which brings her cheek to Harry's. Their moment's rest soon rudely interrupted by the rather loud opening of the classroom door, which jerks almost everyone wide awake.

"Wake up, bedtime isn't until later," says Professor Snape, who strides into class with a sizable gramophone levitating behind him. "Parkinson, wake Potter up. He of all people shouldn't be embarrassing this House on Christmas night."

"What's going on, Professor? Looks like a party! Are you finally going to let loose?" asks Sally-Anne, who receives a look from Snape that has her taking back her remark. "Sorry."

"Harry, wake up, goddamnit." Pansy repeatedly taps him until he eventually starts waking up again.

"I didn't eat the toast, Aunt Petunia!" Harry looks around, then blushes. "Oh, that was just a dream, darn..."

"You're just far too cute," whispers a giggling Pansy.

"It seems our  _esteemed_ Champion has finally left memory-land and decided to join us. You will not disgrace us on the 25th, understand, Potter?"

"Is Father Christmas coming?"

Sniggers of laughter echo around the girls from Harry's remark before Snape simply looks at him. Then he decides to slowly pace up and down the classroom while addressing the fourth years.

"The Yule Ball, an event traditionally associated with the Triwizard Tournament, is set to run from 8pm until midnight in the Great Hall. For all our sakes, let us hope our Champion does not ruin our reputation out there."

"Sir, it's already ruined, always has been—"

"Silence, Potter!" Snape now stands in the centre of the room before continuing. "Even the biggest dunderhead is expected to present themselves appropriately at the Ball. There will be no excuse for tardiness, unsightliness, lack of dance preparation or hand-me-down robes in this House, understand?"

Everyone nods obediently as they sit rather awkwardly in their seats. Many a student's eyes gaze from the gramophone to Snape while the topic of 'dance-preparation' for the Ball comes to mind. Taking one for the team, Malfoy raises his hand.

"Professor, most of us already know how to dance. We do come from affluent backgrounds, as I'm sure everyone already knows."

"Correct, Mr. Malfoy, but what of Crabbe and Goyle over there?"

"We'll brib— I mean  _ask_  a few other students to adequately prepare them," replies Malfoy, to which Nott, Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle all nod.

"Very well then, you may leave." Snape resumes his pacing while five boys exit the room with looks of relief on their faces. "Now then, as I was saying, I will not tolerate a Slytherin going to the Ball and ending up sitting around like an empty-headed buffoon. Nobody else will leave this room until your dance appears adequate to represent this house. I require a volunteer."

While Snape walks over towards the gramophone, the girls sit back with nervous expressions on their faces. But these are looks that has Harry suddenly grinning mischievously.

"Oi!" he calls as quietly towards Pansy as he can. "How much are you willing to pay to save yourselves such agony?"

"What? Are you serious? For real?" Pansy's expression turns even more shocked at the nodding Harry.

"How many crazy beasts haven't I taken down in this school already? This'll be a piece of cake. Besides, life only happens once, and then you die or get killed, so, might as well have some fun. Place your offers starting at 10 Galleons."

The girls soon huddle together before Daphne whispers. "12 From each of us? That sound fair?"

"Yes, fair enough, now you know who has the biggest balls of us all."

"We're girls, silly, you're the only one with balls here. Oh, haha we know what you mean. Have at it then!" Pansy slaps Harry's backside once he stands up from his seat.

With the gramophone now playing a waltz tune, Snape turns around and glances quizzically at him.

"Problem, Potter?"

Harry barely contains his mischievous grin while gesturing to the seated girls. "Nobody else is willing to volunteer, sir. The sooner we get this done the better, I think, sir."

What is probably the single most awkward minute between Harry and a Professor passes before Snape calls up one of the girls.

"But, sir, you said the Champions will be opening up the Yule Ball dance. Harry needs to be thoroughly prepared or else he'll embarrass us all," says Tracey, eliciting hurried nods from the rest.

"Don't worry, Professor, what happens here stays in this room," adds Daphne, while stifling a giggle.

"Yes, sir, you can count on us!" says Millicent.

"We've all seen Harry's, um, party dancing, sir. But surely he desperately needs to learn something formal?" asks Sally-Anne.

"He needs someone strict to make him formal, otherwise he'll remain a wild animal," states Pansy. "The Yule Ball's such a rare and utterly important occasion indeed."

"If anyone gets word of this"—Snape glares at each of them present, then he actually sighs—"Get over here now."

Nodding, Harry steps forward to stand in the centre of the room, stifles an inward feeling of cringe, then takes up the waltz position with his Head of House. Almost immediately, whistles sound from the girls who giggle at the sheer awkwardness expressed by the pair. Soft chants of 'hand on waist' are now heard.

"Be quiet!" says Snape.

"Silence!" adds Harry, as both turn to look at their amused onlookers. Then, practically wordlessly, he finds himself awkwardly being led through what is expected of him on the opening ceremony. From following the movements to having to look his practice partner in the eye, Harry remains hoping that nobody finds out about this.

"Where's the lift and spin? Aren't the dancers gonna do that at the Ball?" asks Pansy eagerly. "Someone needs to do it here..."

"Would you like detention, Miss Parkinson?"

"No, sir."

"Maintain eye contact, Potter. You did ask for this, so deal with it."

Up to ten of the strangest few minutes pass by before Snape finally stops the practice session. "Acceptable, now pair up with Parkinson while the rest follow. Hurry up, we do not have all night."

Feeling awkward from having to make constant eye contact with Snape, Harry hurriedly approaches Pansy. But she remains seated defiantly as he asks her to 'get up and dance.'

"I'm not lifting my arse until you address me properly. Now let's start over,  _Champion_."

While Tracey seems to be absolutely enjoying her waltz with Daphne, and Sally-Anne being taught by Millicent, Harry extends his arm to the scowling Pansy.

"Let's dance like pros," he says, before Snape smacks him on the back of his head.

"'May I have this dance, my lady.'"

"Yes you may," laughs Harry in response, before receiving yet another smack on the head by Snape. "Sorry, sir."

"Use those words, now."

Harry turns to Snape and extends his arm. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

Pansy nearly falls out her seat while shrieking with such laughter that the rest of the girls join in too. Harry laughs a slight bit as well and it seems the only one not laughing is Snape, who speaks only after Pansy passes a comment.

"Were you dropped on your head when you were younger?" she asks, after finally recovering from her fit of laughter.

"We must exercise patience with someone raised by Muggles."

Snape's response has Harry looking down in shame while the five girls take to laughing yet again, this time at him. Eventually, after a few minutes of joking around, Harry turns to extend his arm to Pansy.

"May I have this dance, my lady?"

She beams at him. "Oh you certainly may, young sir."

"I was expecting 'my lord'," says Harry, who finds himself on the receiving end of a few amused looks.

"Unfortunately, that title is reserved for idiots, now, let's dance," replies Pansy, before standing up to let Harry lead their waltz for a good few minutes.

"Do ensure he's up to standard come the Ball," says Snape, while looking at Pansy.

"Oh don't worry, sir, I'll make certain of that." She then turns to whisper to Harry once Snape views the other girls. "Now I have the authority to dance as much as I like with you, Potter baby. We're gonna have many a nightly waltz together."

"I'd love that, yes," replies Harry, as the dance session carries on for another twenty minutes before the group of six return to the common room. Not a word is said about Harry's practice with Snape as the girls discuss this evening's events.

"Public announcement," declares Daphne as she stands at the notice board. "Harry's already gotten his Yule Ball partner. For anyone who's wondering, it's Fleur Delacour, a Beauxbatons Champion."

Somewhere in the crowd, Nott makes a gagging gesture. "Ugh, the Veela ancestry one?"

"Shut up, kid," replies some older student. "Not like you'd have a chance with her."

Then, Marcus Flint raises his hands above his head to start an applause. "Lucky bastard!"

From the looks on many a third-year girl's face, Harry can tell that they're not much interested in the Ball, and therefore hardly seem bothered. As for the younger ones, he makes it clear that they simply too young for such an event.

"I can, however, fit in one third year student if any of you girls would like to come?" asks Harry, who receives various shakes of the head.

"If it wasn't around Christmas time then we'd gladly take the opportunity," says a third year girl named Morag. "But I think we'd all love to be home and discuss the Triwizard Tournament with our families."

As the crowd gradually disperses in the common room, Astoria nudges Harry in the side. "You can take two partners?"

"I can do whatever the hell I want."

"Then I'd love to go!"

"You're two years younger than me, that's over the limit. Sorry, but thirteen's the absolute minimum I'm willing to accommodate."

"Aww..."

Daphne agrees with Harry before turning to speak to her sister. "He's right, besides, it's just a four hour Ball. You're not missing out on much."

"Well you'd better tell me all about it then!" says Astoria, before finally letting Daphne help her out with some homework at a table. With many students already in their dormitories, Harry continues to stay with the girls.

"Alright, Potter baby, it's time to get some sleep before you dominate the Quaffle tomorrow," declares Pansy, as she ushers him over to his bed.

"Why don't you climb in with me, and I'll show you some real domination?" Harry winks at the slightly blushing girl.

"Oh my G—" Pansy covers her face with her hands before laughing loudly, then she shuts Harry's curtains and greets him goodnight.

"Yeah, you all go and hang out while the best Chaser in this school gets his beauty sleep." He then climbs into bed and shuts his eyes. But this evening's dancing with Pansy, and even Snape, brings about old memories for Harry who soon finds himself in a familiar scene from years back:

"... if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach," says Professor Snape. A terrifying man that has little Harry practically trembling in his seat, with eyes widened behind those round glasses.

All appears silent in the classroom, except for one particularly annoying girl who's got her hand up even before a question has been asked.

"Potter!"

Harry winces while sitting in his desk. First day of Potions and he's already being targeted for no apparent reason, just like back in Muggle school.

"What would I get if I added powered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

But Harry can't answer, not while facing such fearsome hostility from his own Head of House. He remains staring upwards, silent, at the imposing Professor glaring down at him. Words form at Harry's mouth but seem unable to be spoken, for he remains deathly still.

"I'm waiting," says Snape tauntingly, as if he's enjoying this moment.

Then, what feels like a world's relief comes to Harry as the girl seated beside him slowly raises her hand.

"Speak, Miss Parkinson."

"Please, sir. Harry has indeed read his work, we did it together. But he's just very nervous and can't quite remember the answer. I mean, he hasn't exactly had the best of life before coming to Hogwarts."

"Hmph, well then I'd suggest that he keeps his wits about him in this school. Now, Potter, where can one find a bezoar?" asks Snape, while seemingly ignoring the Granger girl's hand. More silence follows on Harry's part, until Pansy's right hand sneakily taps him on the abdomen.

"I-It's in a stomach, sir...um..."

"Close enough, but not the expected answer. Next: what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I...I don't think there is a difference, Professor."

"Correct. One-and-half out of three, I do expect better from a Slytherin." Snape then snaps at Granger to 'sit down' before he provides the full answers to the three questions he had just interrogated Harry with. The latter remains slightly trembling before the little bob-haired girl whispers to him.

"Oh my God, Harry. Six days into school and you're such a scaredy-cat already. Don't be frightened by Professor Snape, the Prefects said he's always like this."

"He's targeting me for some reason."

"Well, maybe, so show him you're better than a fearful little boy."

"Stupid dreams again." A blur of emerald curtains comes into view as Harry opens his eyes in the morning. Ten hours have passed by in seemingly seconds before he's now wide awake once more. After getting freshened up for the day, Harry heads for the Great Hall by himself—at around half past nine—to get in some breakfast before the match is due to start at 11. Sitting at the end of the Slytherin table as usual is Fleur, who smiles upon seeing Harry take his seat beside her.

"Good morning."

"A vairy good morning to you, eet is time for yet anuzzer Quidditch match, is it not?"

"We've never had them so crammed on top of each other. Three matches in barely over a month already, that's half the season gone. Sounds like they're trying to free up the Quidditch pitch as soon as possible this year. Hope you're not getting bored of all this?" asks Harry, eliciting a shake of the head from Fleur, whose long silvery blonde hair swishes about as she does so.

"Zis castle may be ugly but ze Quidditch 'ere is most entertaining indeed, yes. And it 'as some cute leetle players." Fleur rubs her palms on Harry's cheeks which causes him to blush a fair bit.

"You crack me up, Miss Delacour. That means you make me laugh, by the way." He then proceeds to ask her something that's come to mind. "Would you be okay with me inviting another girl to the Ball with us?"

"No."

"Oh, no problem then."

"Am I not good enough for you? Did ze 'Arry Potter find someone better looking zan me to take to ze Ball? Zat 'urts my feelings, young man."

"What? No! I haven't found anyone else yet. Just wanted to hear your opinion."

Fleur sticks her fork into a piece of sausage before placing it in Harry's mouth, which quietens him as she speaks. "Do not try to make yourself look like ze arrogant star man of ze night by bringing in two girls. I do not like when men try to do such so-called 'manly' zings to impress uzzers. Eet is disgusting arrogance indeed."

After swallowing his mouthful of food, Harry looks down at the table. His expression now quite apologetic while speaking. "But I  _am_  arrogant, can't help it at all."

"No, no, zat is confidence which, coming from you, is vairy cute. You are ze exception to ze rule yes. Now, are you going to stare at me all morning or eat for your beeg match today? Slytherin's leetle star needs to shine brightly for 'is many goals today," replies Fleur, in a manner that Harry notes lacks her usual haughtiness.

"I just hope we win, because I haven't been practicing with Malfoy at all in training."

"Ze bit of animosity between you and zem 'as not gone unnoticed by me. Very unfair zat your fellow fourth year boys do not like you at all." Fleur puts her elbows on the table before locking her fingers and resting her chin on them.

"Haters can hate all they want, I don't give a crap. They can get screwed in the arse for all I care," replies Harry, eliciting a laugh from Fleur.

"You are truly a vairy naughty boy. 'Screwed in ze arse'..." She resumes her earlier bit of laughter. "I shall remember zose words, yes."

The comment draws a quizzical expression from Harry, before he resumes finishing his bowl of corn flakes. As the minutes pass by, he spots Fleur now resting her cheek on her left hand while looking, to the right, at him.

"See something you like?" he asks, while looking at her as he keeps the tablespoon in his mouth. The gesture now elicits a pretty smile from Fleur.

"Too cute, Monsieur, too cute." She then nudges a plate of bacon his way before tilting her head questioningly.

"I used to like that, but now I've grown to hate it a fair bit. My Muggle, oh excuse me,  _Non-Magique_ aunt made that so many times that I can still smell her cooking now." Harry gives an exaggerated shiver that only widens Fleur's smile, which already seems to have raised her cheeks to her eyes. "So, hopefully that explains why I'm trying not to eat that stuff anymore. I mean, come on, there was many a morning where I had to fry the darn stuff in the house! Little Harry wanted to have some lamb but no... it's bacon! Little Harry wishes he could have some steak but no... it's bacon! Little Harry watches his family eat nice meat chops but what does he get? Strips of bacon, hmph!"

He folds his arms and puts his nose in the air with an indignant expression, though he does spot Fleur still smiling at him.

"But here I can eat as much as I want, yes! Nothing and nobody's stopping me from doing so, mwahahaha!"

His plate is suddenly pulled away by Fleur, who calmly speaks. "Well, I will be stopping you now."

"Huh, why?" Harry adopts a saddened expression while Fleur pats him on the abdomen.

"Because you 'ave a big match coming up in ze next hour, and we would not want leetle 'Arry getting very sick. I will keep this."

While trying to reach for his plate and bowl, Harry practically pleads with the adamant Fleur. "Gimme my stuff!"

"No, I will not. Zat food needs to go down more before ze match."

"Gimme my stuff, please?"

"No, sorry, end of ze story. Oh zat is an adorable look, wait, oh no you do not! Trying to make yourself do ze puppy-eyed look will not work on me, 'Arry, I refuse."

"Well who needs a plate and bowl anyway?" Harry reaches for a sandwich but quickly finds his hand smacked away. "Oh, come on!"

"No more food for you, and zat is an order."

Grumbling to himself, Harry can but only sit with his arms folded while Fleur continues to watch him. A few minutes later sees the table gradually filling up with students including the five girls who take their seats nearby.

"And now? Why's he sitting like a sulking little baby?" asks an amused Pansy.

"Ze match is nearly 'ere and 'e 'as eaten more zan enough already. So I 'ave stopped 'im from eating any further. Are you angry, leetle 'Arry?"

"Hmph, well, I can't get too upset at you now can I?" He glances left to see her biting off half a jam sandwich before offering the rest to him.

"Oh man, her spit is on there," says Daphne, which only elicits a smile from Harry.

"Only makes it better." He swipes the half and swiftly finishes it before a most amused Fleur at the table.

"You getting used to the...  _taste_... of her?" asks a whispering Pansy rather mischievously in Harry's ear.

"Definitely."

"What did she say in your ear? Tell me now because eet looked vairy suspicious to me. Well, do tell me already."

Harry shifts in his seat. "She just asked me whether I don't mind eating something that you've eaten on, yes."

"I zink it is time for ze naughty boy to go get ready for 'is beeg match today. Let us go to ze stadium in a few minutes."

Pansy turns to look at Fleur. "Alyssa's coming to stand with us, you joining?"

"Most definitely, yes. Eet was fun to distract ze Gryffindors in your last match but let me be with my leetle darling's 'Ouse zis time."

"Aww, did she just call you her 'darling'? That's very cute," says Millicent, before Harry stands up and stretches out.

"Not at the food table after you've eaten, seriously, learn some proper manners you big baby," laughs Pansy.

"Zis beeeeeg baby took down ze dragon," replies Harry, causing much laughter among his group of friends.

"Oh 'ow very funny you are," says Fleur sarcastically as Harry takes his leave towards the stadium. By the time he eventually steps into the locker room, much of the team seems to have gathered around for a pep-talk.

"My second last game at this school, so let's make it count!" says Marcus, who briefly goes over the plan against Roger Davies' side. "Chang looks on fire with that Nimbus 1700, Malfoy. So I suggest borrowing Harry's Firebolt."

"I don't need anything from  _him_ ," sneers Malfoy in response.

"Don't screw up then, because we've all gotta do our part against this side. Having lost just last week means they'll be super eager to redeem themselves today. Bah, that's why I prefer the usual spread out matches so people can calm the hell down," says Marcus.

After waiting it out until 11, the team soon lines up in the tunnel where Bletchley whispers to Harry.

"Flint and I have given your idea some thought and yeah. See if you can get him to come out against Gryffindor."

"You alright with it? Being in the crowd to watch an old enemy play?"

"Might as well use their own shock tactics against them. Just do your best against Krum when the time comes."

"Yeah, will do. But let's get this game out the way first," says Harry, who now steps out into the light of a chilly December morning with his team.

 


	24. Seeking Attention

Once again, Ludo Bagman's been selected as Quidditch commentator as students and staff of Hogwarts, and their visitors, anticipate a great match. In addition, many visitors (beyond those from Hogsmeade) have taken a keen interest in watching what the school has to offer on the pitch. Now the stands seem to be packed with even more guests due to the school's hosting of the Triwizard Tournament.

Both teams exit together as their House animals are represented by glittering spells in the air. For the Ravenclaws, a magnificent blue and bronze eagle streaks through the pitch before hovering over the crowd. For the Slytherins, a green and silver serpent hangs eerily over their stands before slithering above their team.

_"RAVENCLAW! WE KNOW MORE! ROCK THAT SCORE!"_

_"WE'RE THE BEST, BETTER THAN THE REST. SLYTHERIN FOR THE CUP! NOW SHUT UP!"_

Seven players of bronze and blue march out to meet those in green and silver. Fourteen determined faces now converge on the centre of the pitch while Madam Hooch hovers on her broom. Then, Bagman finally continues to commentate as the standings and teams are announced.

"Let's put up that tally again for any new viewers here," he says before fiery words light up high for all to see:

_Gryffindor 240_

_Slytherin 200_

_Hufflepuff 70_

_Ravenclaw 60_

"Ravenclaw appears to be fielding exactly the same line up as last week, and for those who might not have been here, listen up. Chasers: Captain Roger Davies, Jeremy Stretton, Randolph Burrow. Beaters: Jason Samuels, Duncan Inglebee. Keeper: Grant Page, and finally the Seeker remains Cho Chang who flies a Nimbus 1700. The rest of the team sporting Cleansweep Sevens!"

Much applause now comes from the Ravenclaw stands as they urge their team onwards to the Cup. Having played two matches in a week serves to increase the pressure, and therefore their supporters make their voices heard.

"Loud and lively indeed, Ravenclaw's making themselves heard here today! Now, for team Slytherin... Captain Marcus Flint leads the Chasers including Cassius Warrington and Harry Potter. That's right, you heard it people... the Boy-Who-Lived! Next up we have Peregrine Derrick, and Lucian Bole, beefing up the Beater positions while Miles Bletchley plays in Keeper. Finally, we have Draco Malfoy in Seeker today. I spot everyone on the team using Nimbus 2001's, uh, where's the Firebolt? Looks like Harry's left his Firebolt in the lockers to make use of a lesser broom today, did he buy it? The 2001's are going for around 200 Galleons these days, still a heck of an amount..."

Indeed, Harry smiles as he now hovers upwards—following Madam Hooch's instruction—on his newly purchased Nimbus 2001. The Firebolt has certainly been left in the Slytherin locker room as Harry now seeks to show that he's not solely dependent on his broom advantage. His second reason for buying this broom also serves to lessen the boredom of the game. Watching teams on Cleansweep Sevens or Nimbus 1700's get hammered in goal by a Firebolt makes for a dull experience, in Harry's opinion. Thirdly, he knows that Viktor Krum—a fellow Firebolt user—happens to be watching him now. Well, he can watch and learn practically nothing about Harry's Firebolt skills today. All he might be aware of are old memories from the Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff game, and the First Task.

Hovering above the centre of the pitch, Madam Hooch checks to see if everyone's in position before she tosses the Quaffle up to start the match.

"Aaaaaand they're off! Davies moves in to claim first possession before passing the Quaffle backwards to Stretton. Stretton tosses over Warrington to reach Burrow... oh! Here comes Flint who muscles away that Quaffle before passing right to Warrington."

With Flint and Warrington moving off to the right flank, Harry rolls to keep in the centre, to their left.

"Samuels and Inglebee now moving into position as they near one of the Bludgers ahead of the advancing Slytherin Chasers. —WHACK!— Here it comes, deflected by Derrick who narrowly misses Davies as Flint finds himself being closely pursued by the Ravenclaw Captain."

Reading the game, Harry spots Flint and Warrington cutting in from the right while Davies and Stretton mark them closely. Meanwhile, Burrow seems to be keeping an eye on Harry as the latter swiftly speeds to the right. The paths of the three Slytherin Chasers now converge in an almost 'X' like shape just outside the scoring area.

"200 Galleons well spent as Potter links up splendidly with his fellow Nimbus '01 users. Quaffle passed to Warrington who goes to challenge Page at the right post. SHOOTS... Warrington's shot is blocked by Page who sends the Quaffle dangerously to his right. Switching time, as Warrington doubles back to have Flint take the second shot left... OPENING GOAL BY THE CAPTAIN HIMSELF. TEN-ZERO TO SLYTHERIN!"

Not in the mood to showboat from a mere goal today, the Chasers continue their assault as the game restarts. Once the Quaffle is taken forward by Stretton, Warrington and Flint successfully dispossess him before spinning around.

"I'm seeing a familiar pattern emerging here, Flint and Warrington going forward again. Davies and Burrow man-marking Potter in the centre leaving his teammates to cut in towards goal. Davies moves to intercept Flint's pass but it's too late. Flint to Warrington who shoots... SAVED by Page, Quaffle on the rebound as Stretton sweeps it up. Stretton to Davies... OH! Dispossessed by Potter who goes forward to shoot. Potter shoo—wait, oh he drops the Quaffle and doubles back to let Warrington take another shot. SCORED! Good lord that was a quick two goals as it's now TWENTY-ZERO TO SLYTHERIN!"

Slytherin's Chasers spread out to let play restart again as Page passes to Burrow who takes the Quaffle forward through the centre. Davies and Stretton flank him on the sides as Flint and Warrington signal Harry to tail them. As practiced in training, he holds back as the bigger Chasers team up with Bole to launch a combined attack. First comes the Bludger which is evaded by Davies before Flint barges in to seize the Quaffle. Warrington holds off Stretton as Harry speeds forward to catch the pass just as Burrow tries to snatch it from Flint.

"Lovely teamwork from the Slytherin Chasers, and Beater, as the Quaffle comes yet again towards the Ravenclaw posts. This time it's Potter flying on from the left... Great Scott! Just look at him fly, no wonder he took down that Horntail! Potter speeds across the face of goal... SHOOTS... too much too soon for Page as Harry Potter scores! That's THIRTY-ZERO in favour of Slytherin so far. They have certainly been doing their practice!"

But three is not enough for Harry who practically ignores the tremendous approval coming from the Slytherin stands. All three Chasers demand more from themselves as they fall back to let play restart yet again. To the Ravenclaw supporters' bemusement, it's only a matter of minutes before the Quaffle flies in past their Keeper yet again. Slytherin's fourth goal coming from Flint after being assisted by Harry from behind.

Still not celebrating, Harry follows Flint as they form up in an attacking formation to pursue the Ravenclaw Chasers headed for Bletchley. Two Bludgers come in timely as Samuels fails to hit Harry while Bole narrowly misses Davies.

"Looks like a Ravenclaw attack, shot by Davies... SAVED by Bletchley. Potter comes in to grab that pass before searching for Flint. Yes, now this is looking like some promising passing indeed, upping the tempo I daresay! Flint! Warrington! Potter! Interception by Burrow! Dispossessed by Potter! To Flint! Here they go down the left flank towards the Ravenclaw posts yet again!"

Hunched low on his broom, Harry takes to streaking forward while Flint and Warrington pass the Quaffle between each other. Only when Stretton and Burrow narrowly miss snatching it from Warrington does the latter bank right to pass to Harry.

"Potter in possession of the Quaffle after a tricky bit of play from Flint and Warrington. Derrick and Bole both coming in to assist!"

Just as Harry enters the scoring range, he laughs as Page is hit by a Bludger sent by Bole, gifting Harry an easy goal which he simply tosses in.

"FIFTY-ZERO TO SLYTHERIN! Potter with the goal after a superb Bludger from Bole, and it looks like Page is alright and ready to continue."

Although fifty up in a game that's gone on for a fair bit of time, Harry refuses to celebrate as he remains focused on the match. Flint and Warrington seem to agree as the three Chasers catch Stretton with the Parkin's Pincer manoeuvre, in the centre of the pitch. Then, Harry flies below Flint—but above Warrington—as the trio form a skewed vertical column. Davies and Burrow now fly in to double team Flint while Samuels aims a Bludger at Harry, and Inglebee takes aim at Warrington.

"Both sides trying to get their team game going! Inglebee's Bludger is deflected by Derrick while... OH!"

Thanking himself for spending many Galleons on top-end armguards, Harry swiftly brings his left arm up to take the impact of Samuels' Bludger. Ooohs and Aaaas echo throughout the Slytherins as the force of the Bludger knocks Harry into a roll, though he stays on the broom. After gesturing a thumbs up to Flint, the trio proceed with Warrington holding possession.

"Whew! What a lucky lad to have dished out them Galleons on protective gear. Harry Potter takes that Bludger and flies it off, though he'll probably feel it later today. Anyway, Warrington passes to Flint as they reach the scoring area. Flint to Potter who goes ahead and rolls left. He hurls that Quaffle towards the left hoop with a good bit of effort. Just a wee bit too much for Page as another goal comes from Potter making it SIXTY-ZERO for Slytherin!"

Meanwhile, Flint looks at the focused Harry and laughs. "That-a-BOY! Let's keep this pace up and give no mercy! Warrington, you take the next few shots while Harry and I prep things up."

"You bet!" Warrington now slows down to fly behind Flint and Harry as they pursue the Ravenclaw trio en route towards Bletchley.

Much of the crowd seems to be rather awestruck by what they're seeing today, as Harry notes the various looks from spectators whom he flies past. Bagman himself seems over enthusiastic as the goals are piled up over the next hour.

"Potter passes to Warrington who... SCORES! SEVENTY ZERO!"

A few minutes of play later sees Warrington putting a penalty through to tally eighty. Then, Harry outmanoeuvres Page for a close-up goal before the Slytherin trio continue their relentless attacks.

"I say! It's put in again by Warrington as Slytherin stands on NINETY TO ZERO!"

After intercepting Burrow's attempted pass to Stretton on the left flank, Harry rolls twice over Davies who fails to reclaim possession. Now Flint comes in to receive Harry's pass and challenge Page, who seems to be fuming at Ravenclaw's poor display today.

"...SAVED by Page, oh my, SCORED on the rebound by Potter! That's Slytherin on ONE HUNDRED now."

Although they do try and voice their support, the Ravenclaws seem to be outsung by the Slytherin stands now. The latter make their approval of the in-form players heard as they cheer on each of them, though Harry tends to be the focus given his fame and Triwizard status.

"...shot taken by Potter, saved by Page, Quaffle on the rebound but Page is forced to dodge that Bludger... left hoop unguarded... SCORED by Flint yet again!"

While hovering before the delighted crowd of Slytherins, Harry turns to gesture a signal at Bletchley. The latter laughs then shrugs before gesturing a thumbs up.

"Someone's getting brave over here, good lord, here comes the Slytherin Keeper out to join the party in attack. Very risky move but they're already one-hundred-and-ten up anyway. Potter passes to Flint who looks for Warrington in the centre of the pitch. Ravenclaw Chasers and Beater coming in for the defence... Quaffle passed to Bletchley who's flanked by his teammates. Superb bit of passing from Potter to Flint to Bletchley as they near the scoring area. Bletchley goes forward... Keeper versus Keeper time as he takes that shot...unlucky for Page who barely gets his fingertips to it but it's not enough. Twelfth goal of the game SCORED by MILES BLETCHLEY!"

Just over ten minutes later:

"... shielded from that Bludger as Bole comes in to bash it away... Potter takes the shot... SCORED again! Slytherin on ONE-HUNDRED-AND-THIRTY NOW! Credit to all those players but Potter's on fire, need I remind some of the viewers that Chaser's his second position? Harry Potter is said to be a Seeker, although he hasn't played as one this year yet..."

Ignoring the rest of the commentary and thunderous level of crowd support, Harry catches Stretton on the right flank. After seizing the Quaffle and passing it to Warrington, they just about evade the Ravenclaws as Harry goes forward with the Quaffle in hand. The crowd seems to have increased in its overall volume rather dramatically, for some reason, as Harry ignores them to challenge Page. With his efforts focused on beating the Keeper, Harry rolls twice to the right before performing a feint shot. But as Page dives to his right, Harry drops the Quaffle before kicking it through the centre hoop at close range.

He waits for Page to pass the Quaffle to Davies who now passes a comment that Harry doesn't bother to hear. Then he takes off in pursuit of Davies down the left flank using the speed of the Nimbus 2001 to his advantage. After seizing the Quaffle, Harry spins around to seek out his teammates but Flint waves his arms before shaking his head.

"Don't pass!"

"What? Why?" asks Harry wildly, as he flies towards Flint at the centre of the pitch.

"It's over."

Having ignored the commentary for so long leaves Harry looking towards the direction where Flint's pointing. The crowd of Ravenclaw supporters wave their banners and applaud loudly as Cho Chang holds the Snitch up high.

"What an absolute twist of an ending to an otherwise magnificent Slytherin display today. Harry's slipped in that goal putting Slytherin up on 140-0 but only right before Chang beats Malfoy to the Golden Snitch! They may have finally lost their winning streak but 140 still means a heck of a lot on the scoreboard for team Slytherin. Final score is 140-150 with Ravenclaw taking a last gasp win! Credits to the Slytherin team for putting on a superb display of scoring out there today."

Harry's sinking feeling is made only worse as the Ravenclaws chant that he should've played Seeker today. The feeling of defeat on the Quidditch pitch is certainly something new to him as he remains hovering in the air with the Quaffle still in hand. Minutes later, as Ravenclaw and their supporters continue to celebrate, Madam Hooch flies towards Harry to reclaim the Quaffle.

"Don't let it get to you, Potter. Even the best of teams have to be beaten at some point. However, today shows why Chasers also happen to be key players in the game. Fourteen goals still puts you in the fight for the Cup. Could've been far worse if this Quaffle hadn't passed Page so much today."

Fiery words soon appear high in the air for all to see:

_Slytherin 340_

_Gryffindor 240_

_Ravenclaw 210_

_Hufflepuff 70_

_Next: Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff (19/12)_

Harry ends up being essentially the last person still in the stadium as he stays behind after Flint's post-match talk. It hardly helps that Malfoy's acting extremely defensive with regards to his performance. Just as the latter's finished refusing to take any criticism, Harry turns to look at him at the stadium's exit.

"I knew it was only a matter of time before someone beat you with a lesser Nimbus."

"Oh yeah? Think you could've done any better against Chang today? Get lost," replies Malfoy, before storming out ahead of the team. This leaves Harry alone in the locker room where he decides to take a lengthy shower as the early afternoon moves on. By the time he finally steps out from ruing Slytherin's broken streak, some footsteps can be heard coming into the tunnel. They appear to be nearing the locker room where a sighing Harry sits on a bench in just his boxer shorts.

"Flint said you're busy drowning yourself in the shower, Harr— Oh, there you are," says a blushing Pansy, while Daphne and Fleur seem to have followed her here.

"Why'd you stop so suddenly? Oh I see, hahaha he's in his undies!" laughs Daphne before a red-faced Fleur suddenly stops as well.

"'Arry, are you crying?" she asks, while torn between looking away and sniggering with the rest of the girls. Minutes later sees Alyssa also peeking into the locker room around the corner.

"Tell your boyfriend to put on some clothes, Pansy! Or tell him to drop his knickers, I'm sure you wouldn't mind," she laughs, while nudging her cousin in the side.

"I told that idiot to use the Firebolt but did he listen? Noooo he dislikes my participation in this Tournament so much. Argh, imbecile!" Harry stands up and kicks his foot against a locker door before Alyssa laughs.

"If he keeps this up I'm sure we'll be seeing some other Firebolt, eh? Tell him to calm down before his undies fall off. Would you like that, Fleur?"

"Shut up," replies Fleur to Alyssa, before passing Harry his trousers laying on the bench beside him. "Put zese on and calm down. Ze match is over and done with now, but you did very good out zere today. Just like I believe my leetle Quidditch man can do, so put a smile on zat cute face, Meester."

"We had such a great win streak going all these years and now it's ruined because of one stubborn fool, argh!" Harry grabs his hair before tossing the trousers aside. "I'm not wearing that, or anything, I don't care! I'm gonna walk right into the castle like this."

"Fleur, do what I do and spank his arse right now," says Pansy, before giggling in her hand.

"Very well zen."

_SLAP!_

"Ow, what the hell?"

"You are acting like a silly leetle baby throwing a tantrum 'ere. So, 'ave you calmed down yet or must I spank zese firm bums again?  _Merde_!" Fleur gasps as Harry hurriedly covers up his reaction to the slap on the backside.

"Crap, darn, where's my trousers?!" he asks before swiftly slipping them on. "Nothing to see here, um, sorry about all that."

But the giggles and laughter don't let up from Pansy and Daphne who tease him relentlessly over the next few minutes.

"You turned him on with that spank, Fleur!"

"Isn't he just the naughtiest boy, huh?"

Alyssa shakes her head while muttering, "How immature of you two." Then she waits for the childishness to settle down before leading Pansy and Daphne out the stadium. "Let's give Harry and Fleur some space already."

Once he's finally dressed in his casual wear, Harry walks beside Fleur as they slowly make their way out into the grounds.

"That didn't end as planned, sorry you had to see us lose. We haven't ever lost since I started school. I swear we always tend to win our matches and—"

"'Arry..."

"—whether it's a close or crazy win, we always tend to win. I didn't want you to think we're losers and—"

"Eet is fine! 'Ow many times do I 'ave to repeat myself and say zat it does not matter?"

They now reach the wooden bridge before heading towards the courtyard ahead, where numerous students spend their afternoon. As soon as Harry and Fleur exit the wooden bridge, all eyes glance upon them. Some girls seem to be giggling in packs while many a guy sports truly envious expressions.

"Oh yes, I forgot to say zat many in ze school knows we are going to ze Yule Ball togezer. Funny 'ow such zings spread so fast around zis place. Do not worry zough, we will be ze centre of much talk since two Champions togezer will make 'eadlines."

Harry leans to whisper to Fleur. "Yeah, that and the fact that Alyssa's taking her own girl cousin as a partner. So overall I'd say that three Champions will make headlines."

"I do tire of all zis attention sometimes, but you seem to enjoy yours."

"We both can't help but attract crowds, huh?" Harry takes to sitting on a small bench with Fleur beside him as both try to ignore the dozens of gossiping students around. "It's not your fault that you're a descendant of a veela, and it's not my fault that the Dark Lord failed to kill me."

A moment's silence is followed by Fleur turning to look at him while softly smiling. "Yes, eet can be very annoying to get attention from somezing we 'ave not actually done ourselves."

"Oh I know perfectly what you mean. Sometimes I feel that I haven't earned any of my fame and that it's just... there. That's why I fuss so much over Quidditch because it's a chance for me to actually work towards some recognition."

"I 'ave noticed zat you still 'ave not asked anyzing about my life or family, why?"

Scratching the back of his hair, Harry gives a nervous laugh before speaking. "I've never really liked speaking about other people's families and all that. Makes me regret not having a loving one of my own. That, and I thought maybe it'd bother you because of all the attention you already get. Didn't wanna annoy you with things you've probably mentioned over and over with others."

"I see, very interesting point of view zere, 'Arry. Well zen let me say zat I 'ave one leetle sister, Gabrielle, and zat my parents are a leetle bit rich in France."

"'Delacour' sounds like you guys could be super-mega-powerful politicians who secretly run the country, ouch!" Harry laughs as Fleur pulls on his hair.

"You cannot say zat based on just 'earing ze surname, Meester Potter! Okay, we are very rich yes, but we do not 'secretly run ze country' as you so say. My maman and papa are like normal rich people indeed."

"Well I'm an  _abnormal_  rich person indeed."

"Yes you are, zat is very much true." Fleur once again pinches his cheeks before continuing. "Abnormally cute zat is, I am just joking. None of ze offense intended."

"None taken, I know what you mean. So, uh, what shall we do for the rest of the afternoon, Eeenglish girl?"

"Would you like to eemprove my Eeeenglish?" she asks, in a manner surprisingly like Harry's own teasing. Her expression even appears to mimic the smirk occasionally shown by Harry.

"Oh yes, I'd love that! Although, maybe I should just hit you on ze 'ead with a deectionairy," replies Harry, as they now stand up to walk around the school. At some point, the pair end up in a paved courtyard where more students seem to be scattered about. But before Harry can suggest a place to sit and talk, he hears a few nasty remarks from passersby. Roger Davies, in particular, walks right up to gloat in his face.

"Couldn't save your Seeker this time, huh? Not so perfect now I guess. So, how does it feel to lose a match?"

"You only won by ten points, since the boys and I destroyed you three out there. Poor Bletchley almost fell asleep... I guess," replies Harry.

"But you still lost that win streak. Didn't I hear that Slytherin's supposed to be the best? The best doesn't lose, so how does it feel to lose, you loser?"

Although annoying, Davies' words are mostly true as Slytherin has indeed lost its prized win streak. Harry's bit of hesitation to retort only further fuels the remarks directed at him from the handful of Ravenclaws.

"'Ave you found your partners to ze Yule Ball yet?" asks Fleur, before she stands up and swishes her hair about. Although Harry finds his gaze fixated upon her, the gesture seems to have a more profound effect on Davies' group. They shake their heads while gawking in a slack-jawed manner.

"No, but I'm the Captain of the Ravenclaw team! We've won today's match and beat the best team in the school," says Davies, who seems desperate to impress Fleur.

"I got an Outstanding for my Herbology test last week," boasts Duncan Inglebee before Jeremy Stretton speaks.

"I'm gonna play for one of the professional Quidditch teams in the League some day!"

"I'm the best Seeker—" Harry's dazed look is interrupted as Fleur simply puts her finger on his lip before looking at the Ravenclaws.

"Oh, I am vairy sorry but I cannot go to ze Ball with any of you. Why? Because you are more annoying and evidently uglier zan my leetle 'Arry. Now do get out of my sight immediately," states Fleur so sternly— and with a look of disgust on her face— that the Ravenclaws all but cry while fleeing towards the castle's terrace. Seconds later, Harry finds it easier to think once again before he turns to look at the smug Fleur.

"Wow, that was...I dunno... but that was cruel. Man, the looks on their faces as you rejected them just like that!"

Harry's surprised look is met with an amused laugh from Fleur. "I may not be able to do ze full veela transformation into ze angry bird with fireballs, but words can 'urt very much too."

"Why'd you break their hearts like that? Even the angry bird fireball thing wouldn't have hurt that much," says the giggling Harry. "That was so random just now."

Fleur simply gives him a rather attractive smile before zipping up his hoodie, since a slight breeze has picked up. "I 'ave a better idea, 'ow about we leave ze Eenglish practice for now and go do somezing better?"

"Like what exactly? Break some more hearts out there?"

"No, silly boy, we can use zis time to practice for ze big Ball. Would you like to dance with me?" she asks, while tilting her head ever so slightly.

"I would love to dance and stare into those amazing eyes." Harry grins at his own sudden compliment which seems to have almost come out of its own accord.

"So vairy funny zat I was almost going to say ze same zing about you." Fleur grabs Harry by the hand before leading him back to the viaduct courtyard via the terrace while they pass by a few onlookers. "You seemed to 'ave gotten a leetle bit used to me, so do you want to see somezing funny again?"

As the pair stand beneath the cloister bordering the viaduct courtyard, Harry nods to a mischievously grinning Fleur. The latter now slightly bites on her lip while trying to stifle her laughter as Harry speaks.

"Not here, how about we pick someplace more likely to have passersby?" He now stops her from turning up her charm, before speaking, "Let's do the entrance hall over there."

"Oh you are so very naughty, leetle 'Arry, I like it." Fleur sniggers with laughter as they step into the courtyard then turn right to head towards the double doors leading into the castle. To her amusement, there certainly seems to be a fair bit of students coming and going around the entrance hall.

"Have at it then, so long as you're comfortable with doing this," says Harry, while facing Fleur right in the centre of the hall.

"Of course I am comfortable, zis is most fun sometimes. Now, do not go embarrassing yourself, okay?"

"I'll try not to, but it's still hard to resist. Let's see who's our unlucky victim today, hehehe..." Harry grins as Fleur waves her hair about and places her hands on her rather shapely hips before him. The contours of Fleur's figure, even in slightly loose fitting clothes, has Harry mesmerized while she remains smiling at him. The urge to do something, anything, to impress her comes strong to Harry now. His eyes follow her hands as they slide ever so slightly up her sides and back down to her waist. But then a voice suddenly speaks from before the marble staircase...

"Willoogoballwifme. Uh, I...I mean, would you-u like to go the Yule Ball with me-e?"

Fleur stops her tantalizing display at once (which brings Harry back to his senses) before turning to look to her left. From smiling at Harry she now curls her top lip upon seeing a most fearful-looking Ron Weasley. The latter appears to realise what he's done before turning on the spot and fleeing up the stairs in terror, probably towards the common room.

The only sound in the entrance hall comes from Harry and Fleur as they practically lean on each other while laughing. The former enjoys a soft swish of silvery blonde hair as Fleur grabs him around the shoulder while they try to stop their almost tearful laughter.

"You're such a bastard, Potter!"

"How can you take advantage of that girl for your amusement?"

"I thought there's something different about her, but to think Potter could be so insensitive..."

A dozen students angrily head off in different directions as Harry stands slightly confused before Fleur. The latter now stops smiling a fair bit as she speaks.

"I did not mean to make such a response for you, really. Zey are now all blaming you for our leetle bit of fun in 'ere. I am quite sorry if you are feeling zat eet is no longer funny."

"I'm so used to being hated by many in this school that it hardly bothers me anymore. You were so darn amazing right now with that charm thing! Oh my God, but the way Ronald Weasley almost pissed himself in fear right now was gold. Didn't think he'd be our unlikely victim though, poor thing."

The look on Harry's face soon has Fleur adopt a thoughtful expression as she leads him to a corner in the entrance hall.

"Maybe zat was a leetle bit too far now, yes? I 'ave 'eard zat you and zat boy 'ave a bit of a 'istory togezer."

"Yeah, he's a bit of an arsehole at times but he's got a decent family. Something which I don't... Ugh, now I feel strange."

"You are feeling regret, I zink?"

"I mean I don't exactly like Ronald that much, but it would've been funnier if someone else went stupid then," admits Harry. "Why am I getting soft over Ronald? What is wrong with me?"

Fleur gently ruffles his hair before wrapping an arm over his shoulder. "Eet is seemple: ze leetle bad boy actually 'as a 'eart inside, somewhere deep down. Now, what are you going to do to ease your mind?"

"From what I've heard, Ronald's gonna be wearing some second-hand robes to the Ball. No wonder he hasn't found a partner yet!"

"My God! Zat is most embarrassing indeed for anyone to 'ave to wear to such an event," says Fleur, who notes the quizzical expression from Harry. "I would 'ave said  _mon Dieu_ , but Alyssa says 'my God' even when she speaks French."

Harry continues to stand in the corner with a softened expression before suddenly smiling. "Do you think it'd be stupid if I anonymously sent him a few Galleons to buy something new before Christmas?"

"Zat is very kind of you, really, and 'ere I zought I know ze 'Arry Potter very well."

"Shall we, uh, have our dance practice now, Miss Delacour?"

"Yes we shall, Monsieur Potter."


	25. The Weekend Continues

_Empty Classroom, Saturday December 5th, 1994, 15h00._

"I guess eet is true zat zis castle is bigger zan I zought, but 'ow do you know just where ze empty classrooms are?" Fleur takes a seat atop a desk pushed against a wall, where the windows above permit a fair bit of sunshine.

Standing in the centre of the room is Harry, who grins impishly before speaking. "That is my secret, maybe I'll tell you about it sometime. So, ready to dance with a celebrity?"

The amused expression from Fleur makes Harry's heart race in excitement. "Ze question is: are you ready to dance with me? I will try not to 'ave you too entranced but eet is still up to you to try and resist. Uzzerwise you can stay looking at me so silly, 'Arry."

"You're the one that's silly." Harry bites his lip while still smiling. "Silly with your Eenglish, and I just love it." He grabs Fleur's hand before putting the other around on her waist. "Just where I'd like it to be, Miss Delacour."

"Vairy smart mouth you 'ave zere, let us 'ope you put eet to good use on Chreestmas night."

"What?"

"Wait and see, leetle 'Arry. So, looks like you can dance okay, but we can do better zan zis."

She leads the dance by steering him accordingly for a good few minutes, though he occasionally steps on her foot.

"Sorry, will try not to do it again."

"Eet is okay because I understand why you are not ze most graceful dancer. Zis castle 'as none of ze glamour and beauty of our Palace, oh, are you getting angry at me?"

"Keep talking, I just love that voice."

"Silly boy." Fleur eventually lets Harry rest his head on her chest for a short while as they continue to waltz around the room. "Zat is eet, you are slowly getting better at zis, yes." A slight smile forms on her face as Harry seems to be stepping less on her foot as the minutes pass by.

"It's a bit tricky without music," he admits.

"Use zat beeg imagination of yours zen, leetle dancing teddy bear."

"Seriously?"

"Be quiet, no more talking while we practice ze movements!" Fleur looks him in the eye as they now steadily move in sync with each other. She steps in tune to an imaginary song, turns when needed, then smiles as Harry lifts and spins her in the dance. "Now you are more of a gentleman, vairy good."

Wordlessly, he remains looking in her deep blue eyes while her soft hand is kept in his grasp. "How can someone have such gorgeous hair, perfect eyes, and lovely skin?"

The compliment elicits an amused reaction from Fleur before she replies, "I do not know which one of us you are talking about, Meester."

"How sweet of you to say."

Harry beams with a bright smile at Fleur's kind remark as he continues their dance. They soon take turns leading each other around the classroom before he feels something strong in his chest. The same feeling that occasionally comes from seeing Pansy, Hermione, or sometimes Ginny, now seems to have gotten hold of him. While still grasping Fleur's hand, Harry darts his eyes to the manner in which her hair seems to swish about as they dance. The rays of the setting sun soon spread throughout the class, coating everything in a tinge of orange while Harry remains fixated upon a most amused Fleur.

"Eef you are done staring at me you will see zat eet is now sunset, past four o'clock already. We 'ave been dancing for an hour, 'Arry."

"An hour? Sure as heck didn't feel that long," admits a surprised Harry. "Where did all that time just go?"

"Eet 'as seemply vanished into zin air like so." Fleur snaps her fingers in the air before smiling. "It is evident zat you 'ave enjoyed yourself very much zis afternoon. So, ze wild Quidditch man can learn to dance like a gentleman."

"Wild?"

"To tell you ze truth, I 'ave not always enjoyed riding on a broomstick. But seeing my leetle Gabrielle enjoying to watch ze sport of Quidditch since she was only five made me practice more."

"You're actually better than you might think, the First Task definitely proved that," says Harry, while looking at Fleur who's sitting on the ground with her legs curled up.

"Yes, I am very good, and zat is a fact of life indeed," she declares haughtily. "But so are you."

"Thanks for the dance, it was excellent! Now, I wonder if you can keep a secret?"

"For a friend I can, yes. What secret does ze famous boy wish to tell me?"

"You asked how I know so many empty classrooms, huh? Well, take a look at this beauty." Harry sits facing Fleur as he pulls out the Marauder's Map from a pocket inside his hoodie. Whispering, he activates it as Fleur's expression turns to one of utmost surprise.

" _C'est incroyable_ , unbelievable,  _magnifique_ , I cannot believe zis..." She remains notably impressed as Harry shows their names in the empty classroom on this floor. "'Ow is eet keeping track of everyone in zis castle? Seemple parchments do not do this at all, Dark magic, maybe?"

"What? No!" Harry tries his best to explain what he knows about the Map's creators, including his own father. "So now I hope you understand why I trust you to keep this secret?"

"Zis is 'ow you keep on finding me wherever I am, now it makes sense."

As he speaks, Harry can't help but blush a slight bit from guilt. "I'll admit that I have been following you around sometimes, yes."

"Better you zan somebody else maybe. Can we see for Alyssa now? Or ze uzzer Champions?"

"Definitely."

By zooming out and viewing various sections of the castle, they soon spot two names walking near one of the courtyards. The dots of  _Alyssa Parkinson_  and  _Pansy Parkinson_  seem to be walking slowly, and quite closely together, which makes Harry smile.

"Good on her for having a loving cousin then, Pansy deserves it."

"Now let us go spy on Angelina Johnson," says Fleur, while rubbing her palms together in a playfully mean manner. Seconds later, they locate the Hogwarts Champion making her way to the viaduct entrance from the tapestry corridor. "She is talking to someone I zink, 'oo is zat name walking next to 'er?"

"Cedric Diggory, some tall Hufflepuff guy you might remember from when he put his name into the Goblet. He's also the Seeker for his team, hmm, I wonder if they're discussing their match on 19th? I'll bet it's a much friendlier conversation than had it been with me, the Cheater."

Fleur lightly slaps Harry on the thigh. "Do not call yourself zat! It is an eenjustice to someone sharing ze first place so far."

Grinning from her swift defence, Harry eventually suggests searching for Krum which Fleur takes to doing on the Map. But the grounds seem devoid of any signs of  _Viktor Krum_  anywhere, while not even the courtyards appear to have his name. Then, after a fairly thorough exploration of the castle, they finally spot his dot in the library of all places.

"That bastard, I don't believe this," mutters Harry, while seeing Krum being suspiciously close to  _Hermione Granger_  on the Map. "How dare he go after Hermione?  _My_  Hermione!"

"'Oo is zis 'Er-my-oh-nee?" asks Fleur quite swiftly, her eyes locked onto the name on the Map.

"You might've seen her once, or not. She's this Gryffindor girl with very bushy hair, quite smart too..." he then carries on explaining a bit more about his history with Hermione. "I remember so clearly the first day we met before school... Just me sitting alone in that train compartment, then she showed up asking for a seat. First girl I've had a proper conversation with, ever. Hermione knew more about me than I did, and she even fixed my cheap-arse glasses. Be grateful you hadn't seen me back then though."

"Oh and why is zat? Were you maybe a scared leetle-leetle boy?"

Blushing slightly, Harry nods quite a bit before replying. "Yeah, I sure was. Scared enough to let the Sorting Hat, which puts us in Houses when we first arrive here, talk me into coming to Slytherin."

Fleur leans back against the wall before looking at Harry with an intrigued expression. "Do tell me more about when you first came 'ere, eet is vairy interesting to me."

"Well..." Harry sees those events as if they're happening right now before him:

_His name's called out by Professor McGonagall. The Great Hall buzzing with whispers everywhere. A girl stands right before him in the line saying she wouldn't mind Slytherin. Funnily enough, another girl, with a bob-hairstyle, standing a few places ahead seems to agree. Well, they both eventually get their wishes before it's Harry's turn. Who is he to argue with the aged Hat? And so he ends up walking towards the loudly applauding table, unsure of where to sit._

"Um, 'Arry? You still with me 'ere in zis room? Knock-knock... oh, nobody seems to be 'ome at ze moment. Yes, close zose pretty eyes and continue to daydream next to me..."

_"I thought we were supposed to be friends, Harry."_

_"Why won't you leave me alone, Hermione? What if I don't want to be your friend?"_

_"Yeah, you tell her, Potter! She's nothing but a filthy Mudblood!"_

_"A what?" Harry stands fairly confused while looking at Draco, after having bested him in second year Seeker tryouts._

_"Eat slugs, Malfoy!" yells Ron, catching Draco with a most unpleasant little spell..._

"Okay, 'Arry, now you are daydreaming too long, and I am left wizout conversation. Surely you cannot still be zinking about zat first day? You 'ave not even spoken about it yet. What in 'Ell are you zinking about now? Is eet still even first year? 'Ellooooo?"

_"How the heck was I supposed to see Malfoy's insult coming, Hermione?"_

_"Harry, everyone's blaming you for these Muggleborn attacks, and here I am making all these excuses on your behalf. None of my Housemates can understand why I even talk to you. You've got to stop being influenced by those boys of yours, the girls aren't too bad though."_

_"Stop ordering me around then."_

_"I'm just trying to help you, by the way. No need to keep being so hostile." Hermione storms out of the Potions classroom before a voice speaks from behind the desk._

_"Congratulations, Potter. You have proven yourself to be an even bigger idiot than I expected."_

_"Professor? But I did my assignment so well—"_

_"I wasn't talking about the assignment! However, yours had fallen into a boiling cauldron earlier before I could mark it, what a pity. Now get out of my sight, perhaps ask Miss Granger for help to start afresh. You've got two days to hand it in."_

"Argh! 'Arry, will you please wake up from your daydream before I start shaking you awake? Stop whatever you are zinking, at once!"

_"This may come as a wee bit of a shock to you, Mister Potter, but Miss Granger's the latest victim. I'm sorry."_

_"I'm going to kill whoever did this..."_

A punch to the shoulder from Fleur finally jerks Harry out of his lengthy series of recollection.

"Huh, what?" he asks.

"Forget it, zat took way too long. I do not want to 'ear about whatever you 'ave daydreamed."

"Ugh, fine, er... anybody else you'd like to watch now?" he asks, with the Map still lying open on Fleur's lap. She shrugs before aimlessly viewing many sections of the school while clearly fascinated by this piece of parchment.

"Zese names are vairy funny over zere in ze forest. Look at zat!" Fleur points out a series of odd-looking names, probably not even human, seemingly surrounding Ludo Bagman now. "Could zey be somezing else... maybe old ghosts or animals or goblins or whatever?"

"The hell is Bagman up to?" asks a confused Harry, while practically gawking at the congregation of dots shown near the outskirts of the forbidden forest.

Much like a child who's stumbled upon a new toy, Fleur continues gleefully browsing through the Marauder's Map. She even slaps aside Harry's hand while viewing many corridors, and spying on many dots of students.

"I wonder what zese two are discussing now?" she asks, while having reached the Defence Against the Dark Arts office where two dots— _Alastor Moody_ and _Bartemius Crouch_ —seem to be.

Shrugging his shoulders, Harry replies, "Dunno, maybe Mr. Crouch is looking for advice from Moody on keeping the Tournament safe?"

"Safe? 'E is more likely to make ze old man paranoid with suspicion, or so I 'ave 'eard zis Mad-Eye man to be."

"Well, he's not that bad. I mean he was pretty key at helping me get through the First Task. I'd have been 'fried chicken' if not for my improved shield charm."

"Zat is very much true indeed. Oh, you 'ave some dirt on you." Fleur cleans off the layer of dust from Harry's hoodie with a non-verbal spell.

"I love how you cast those spells without speaking. Care to teach me nonverbal magic?"

"Eet is vairy difficult, even for you it will be. Best way would be to 'ave a proper Professair show you ze way. But do be careful because eef you cast ze spell wizout speaking ze incantation zen it can become weaker."

"And why's that?" asks Harry, who can't help but reach out to run his fingers through Fleur's silky smooth hair as she speaks.

"You already know some of what makes a spell be effecteev, and saying ze incantation is one of zose zings. Unless you are a vairy well-trained wizard, saying ze spell in your mind is not enough to cast a good spell. It will take much practice, evidently, to get it right. I 'ave learned to do it as such from my fifth year of school onwards, yes."

"But I'm willing to learn!"

"Conterairy to what people like to say, I am not perfect, you know. Eet will be a most serious waste of time if I tried to teach you such zings. And no, I am not being selfish because of ze Tournament, I do not want to waste your time." Fleur now looks down, as if slightly upset at bringing up the topic of teaching. "Eet is far more zan just imagining ze name of ze spell, you 'ave to know exactly what it is you want to cast. In a life or death situation zis is dangerous to use compared to ze verbal spell."

Harry checks his watch and sees that it's halfway to five o'clock. "Oh come on, I showed you my big secret in this school, so could you at least try and teach me some non-verbal stuff?"

Sighing, Fleur looks at his saddened expression and soon smiles. "Zat is so adorable, Monsieur. Fine, I will try but do not expect anyzing more zan silly sparks to fly out ze wand."

"Much appreciated, Miss Delacour. I really do appreciate it, truly, I think it will be very helpful."

For the next half an hour, Fleur tries her best to explain the basics of nonverbal spells. Having to clearly visualise the desired spell and pronounce the incantation in one's head serves as the basis of such casting. But just as Fleur's guessed, Harry's wand hardly does anything of note while he tries to wordlessly cast a spell.

"Do not cry, eet is ze first time trying anyway."

"Who said I'm going to cry?"

"You seem so soft, Meester Potter."

"Soft enough to take down a vicious dragon, yes."

Then, Fleur's expression turns to a grin before she speaks. "Ze leetle famous 'Arry Potter is so cute when 'e is focusing very 'ard on zat nonverbal spell. You do look like you are in need of a toilet when you zink so 'ard."

"Oh, how absolutely hilarious you are," he replies with a sarcastic smile while she once again pinches his cheeks. "Almost everyone does that to me."

"For good reason, yes, now let us go 'ave dinner already. Whatever I cannot finish you will eat for me, okay? I do not want to spoil my feegure for ze Ball."

"But it's alright if I eat everything up and ruin my figure?"

"No, it is not alright. I want my 'Arry nice and lean as 'e is now."

"I was being sarcastic."

After concealing the Map once more, Harry exits the classroom alongside Fleur as they make their way down to the Great Hall. Hushed whispers and quite a few looks come their way as they traverse the corridors and stairs en route to the entrance hall. It certainly seems that news of these two Champions partnering up has spread throughout the school, which only further supports any conspiracy theories going about. Harry catches titbits of conversation involving Fleur and him possibly cheating their way past the dragons, as the pair pass by various students.

"...he could've at least helped someone from our school! Poor Angelina lost her broom out there."

"Yeah but she got a better one anyway."

"Just ignore zem and zeir gossiping," says Fleur, as she leads Harry down the marble staircase. "Zey will always be jealous zat we are winning zis Tournament, yes."

Once at the Slytherin table's end, Harry smiles upon seeing Alyssa sitting beside Pansy yet again. The second Beauxbatons Champion greets him with a wave a before Harry sits beside Fleur.

"Still watching that figure?" asks Alyssa, while eyeing Fleur rather hesitantly dish her food.

"Of course, zis body needs to always look at its best every day."

"No complaints there," says Harry, before Pansy gives him an amused look.

"Hey, mister, when you're done ogling the pretty part-veela girl then maybe you ought to hold that bowl straight?"

"Oh darn." Harry sighs upon seeing the bowl of chicken cream soup in his grasp slightly leaking.

"So, Harry, how are things looking with regards to the you-know-what thing that's supposed to be going down later?" asks Daphne, who's seated to Harry's front right beside Sally-Anne.

"It's going okay. Mister W says he isn't too pleased about how the team is acting now. I've been mailing him a few times and it looks like the shall-we-not-mention-it plan is coming along nicely."

"What in God's name are they talking about?" asks a surprised Alyssa, before Pansy giggles and replies:

"Top-secret stuff but don't worry, it's got nothing to do with any of the Tasks of the Tournament really."

"Nothing illicit I hope?" asks Alyssa. "Just because it's not my school doesn't mean I can turn a blind eye to even my own cousin's secret stuff. What are you girls, and boy, up to?"

Her interrogative nature has Harry glancing rather quizzically at Alyssa, especially as Pansy seems to put her nose in the air before speaking.

"Pfft, you have no authority in this school, Head Girl."

"You're Head Girl?" asks Harry, after practically spitting out some juice in surprise.

Daphne shakes her head at him before drawing her wand. "My gosh, Harry, swallow before you speak!  _Tergeo._ "

While chortling with laughter at Harry, Alyssa shrugs her shoulders. "Well, as Pansy's said, I've got no authority over you guys anyway so it wasn't important enough to mention. Though I'm surprised that she hasn't told you already."

"Nah, I just wanted to see that expression of shock on his face," says Pansy smugly.

"Please do not do zat at ze Yule Ball, okay, 'Arry?"

Fleur's comment has Sally-Anne leaning in to speak. "Oh don't worry. This little childish kid can be a real gentleman... when he needs to be. He's a very  _complicated_  individual."

"Yes, he's  _complicated_  indeed," sniggers Pansy, while flashing her usual mischievous smile at Harry. "But we do love him, regardless."

Grumbling to himself, Harry continues to eat his dinner. "Making me sound like some lost and rescued animal..."

"Hey," says Tracey suddenly. "Since it's almost last week of term how about we pick a day to have some fun? Hint hint: one noisy egg, a few busy classes towards term's end?"

"Oh heck yes! Prank time with the golden egg. So we do it in Herbology with the Ravenclaws and Care of Magical Creatures with the Gryffindors?" asks Harry. "But I'd rather not disrupt Professor Hagrid when he's teaching."

Pansy giggles while holding her hand to her mouth. "Aww, he's too fond of his big oaf teacher to do anything mean. Well, we can always do it at the end of the lesson? Or the start?"

"Sounds like a plan then. But speaking of Hagrid... I think I'll pay him a visit tomorrow sometime, you girls in?"

Murmurs, and shakes of the head, quickly lets him know that none of them are too keen on the idea. But Harry's grown used to their indifference towards Hagrid, which hardly bothers him at all. Eventually, the group finishes dinner before heading off to settle down for the evening.

Late Sunday morning sees Harry taking a stroll by himself around the castle. At some point he comes across a familiar face while walking through the second floor corridor.

"Oh great, another Hufflepuff coming to insult and accuse me of cheating?" asks Harry, who decides to lean against the wall with his arms folded.

"Not really, no. Just wanted to know how you're finding this whole Triwizard Tournament thing? And no I'm not trying to catch word of your ideas for Angelina, in case you're wondering," says Cedric Diggory.

"Yeah I noticed you two are being quite good friends these days, very suspicious."

Cedric gives a slight laugh before replying, "Oh come off it, Harry. I'm just keen on whatever goes down in the Tournament. No offence, but you're not the easiest person to approach in this school, you know? Neither is Fleur Delacour or the Parkinson girl either. And Viktor Krum's never actually available to speak with, always heading off somewhere. So, Angelina's the only one willing to discuss the Tournament so openly."

Surprised by the lack of hostilities today, Harry soon strikes up conversation with Cedric, and without revealing too much of his own plans. After a decent few minutes of discussing the first task, Cedric gives a slight wave as he heads off down the corridor to rejoin his group of friends.

Harry soon exits the castle and walks down the cold, windy slopes to Hagrid's cabin. Truly it seems that today's weather is most uncomfortable as Harry covers his ears by putting on his hood. It's no wonder the grounds appear so empty at this hour of the day. The sound of voices coming from within the cabin lets Harry know that Hagrid already has visitors, but the former decides to knock anyway. Heavy footsteps thud towards the door, which soon opens up to a jovial Hagrid sporting a warm smile.

"Harry! So good ter see yeh again! Come inside and make yerself at home while I get yeh summat ter eat."

"Thanks, Hagrid."

But just as he steps inside, Harry pauses upon seeing Hermione and Ron already seated at the wooden table. They seem to be trying to eat whatever meaty food Hagrid has served them, before both turning to look at Harry. Ron's expression now seems even more hostile than usual, while Hermione seems to be giving Harry a rather cheeky look. Hagrid, meanwhile, happily begins dishing up whatever's in today's casserole.

"Oh my goodness," says Hermione, in a slightly sing-song voice that makes Harry feel truly awkward. "Does anybody have a camera because it's been... how long since I've seen this boy up close?"

"Um, hi, Hermione, ...and Ronald."

"Let me just make some space for our busy dragon-slayer over here." Hermione clears the chair beside her before pulling it out for Harry to sit, though he approaches while fidgeting with his fingers.

The cabin suddenly seems notably hotter for him, even though a most chilly breeze blows in from across the slopes. This is made even worse as Hermione shifts her chair closer before eyeing him quite curiously. Her eyes dart up and down as she soon gives him the smile that he secretly admits having truly missed.

"There yeh go, Harry, all warmed up fer yeh," says Hagrid, upon placing a full plate (and a cup of tea) on the table. He then takes a seat on a couch, to Harry's right, before pouring himself some tea as well. "Always love havin' all three of yeh here. Biggest bunch o' misfits I ever set eyes on, though I know yeh're busy quite a lot, Harry."

While Hagrid takes a sip of tea, Harry glances ahead to see Ron looking down while Hermione (to Harry's left) remains simply looking at him before Hagrid speaks.

"Yeh know, I remember when yeh were  _this_  little"—Hagrid extends his arm to gesture Harry's height back when he was eleven years old (while Hermione starts giggling)—"and scared o' almost everythin'. But look at yeh now! Runnin' around throwin' spells and stuff at a Hungarian Horntail of all dragons. Ah, I can just picture yeh mum an' dad both bein' worried ter bits in the crowd, though James woulda been cheering."

The mention of Harry's parents has even Ron looking up to see his reaction, while Hermione gives a truly sympathetic look. But before they can speak, Harry simply smiles back at Hagrid.

"And Sirius would definitely be proud of all that, which he in fact really is," replies Harry, who notes that Ron still remains oddly silent in his company, since he usually passes a remark.

Hagrid soon frowns a fair bit before speaking, "Righ' nasty business I've been seeing between you and those boys lately. Malfoy and the rest, I mean."

Now Ron (and to some extent Hermione too) look and listen intently at Harry as the topic of Slytherin House is brought up. For many in the other Houses rarely know anything about what's happening in Harry's House, especially with the rare bit of division being shown.

Sighing, Harry turns to face away from Hermione and instead look at Hagrid as he speaks. "There's a lot of things going on around here, yes. About a quarter of Slytherin seems to think that I'm a filthy cheater, and so they've taken to supporting Viktor Krum instead."

"Why Krum?" asks Hagrid, whose curiosity seems to be shared by Ron and Hermione.

"Well, Angelina Johnson's a Gryffindor so she'd never be supported by us. Then there's Alyssa who's also been entered without her own knowledge. So she and I are seen as the 'cheaters', although Alyssa's classmates have been opening up to her again."

"And the other Champion? The one tha' yeh've made best friends with?"

"Fleur Delacour..." mutters Ron, in an almost dreamy voice before Hermione snaps her fingers at him.

"Oh, where to start?" asks Harry, who remains looking at Hagrid. "Malfoy had his father run background checks on the Champions and found out that Fleur's a quarter veela. You can imagine what insults this drew from some of the Slytherins. Theodore Nott seems to instigate much of the degrading insults towards her, uh, I'd rather not say them here. Malfoy and the other boys also despise my friendship with Fleur, as do the rest of my haters."

"Ruddy rotten bunch, the whole lot o' them. Malfoys, Notts, all o' that," says Hagrid. "Judgin' people based upon their blood status and stuff, sad ter see someone like you in tha' House."

"It's not that bad. Now, if I might make an awful joke... it's not like I'm the first likable Half-Blood lad coming in and being the man around Slytherin, right? About three quarters of the House really do like me, because I'm sure not everyone's actually Pureblooded here."

"That's what I've always been saying as well," says Hermione quite swiftly. "I wouldn't bet against there being Muggleborns in Slytherin, if not fearfully hiding their status."

A few minutes of trying to eat the alleged beef casserole later, Harry manages to finish just over half before deciding to avoid asking what's in it.

"Why's Ronald so quiet? Seems unnatural of him."

"He's still in a bit of shock as I'm sure  _you're_  well aware of," replies Hermione quite defensively, while Ron slowly tries to finish his meal.

"You got caught good in the charm there, Ronald, sorry about that."

While Ron's expression turns to confusion over Harry's apologetic tone, Hermione drops her fork and suddenly smiles widely. She then turns to look in a most approving manner at Harry as her furrowed brows ease up. Her smile so wide that Harry spots something quite odd as she speaks.

"Oh this is so brilliant if you're finally going to be nice towards R—"

"Hermione," says Harry quite sternly. "What exactly happened to your front teeth?"

She grins mischievously, which again elicits sensations in Harry which he'd rather not mention in public, least of all in Hagrid's cabin.

"Well I wasn't going to keep those fangs from when Nott fired that spell."

"That was my fault, really. But they're all straight and normal sized," replies Harry. "I wonder if you took advantage of Madam Pomfrey when she shrank it?"

"I didn't say so, did I?"

While Harry remains staring at Hermione's new smile, Hagrid can't help but laugh at her actions, although he does state that it was a risky decision.

"So, who's your partner to the Yule Ball?" asks Harry to Hermione, whose change of topic has Ron basically sinking into his chair.

"What makes you think that I even have a partner, hmm?"

"She does," says Ron. "Just won't say who it is, probably Neville or someone."

"Never mind me, the question should be who's Ron going to take? Because he's all beat up after being turned down by your haughty Champion friend, Harry. Stupid decision really, I think it's pathetic how everyone just falls over for her."

"You're talking about me, right?" asks Harry.

"Have I said so? Don't take it personally but she's really annoying with her bossy attitude."

"Look who's talking," mutters Harry, to which even Ron gives a slight laugh.

"Oh, that's so very hilarious, ha-ha. Don't laugh, Ron, you're going to run out of time looking for that 'perfect' someone who doesn't exist. I still say Eloise Midgen is alr—"

Harry taps Hermione in mid-sentence before gesturing that they should rather be discussing students elsewhere. Therefore, they somehow manage to finish their meals before greeting Hagrid and taking their leave. As the trio slowly climb the grassy slopes towards the castle, their conversation continues.

"As I was saying, Eloise wouldn't be too bad for you, Ron. Her acne's gotten tons better, and she's nice! Right, Harry?"

"The hell should I be knowing every single Gryffindor out there? Don't ask me."

"Yeah, see, even Potter agrees that I shouldn't be going with Midgen," says Ron swiftly.

Hermione scowls before sighing as she speaks. "He certainly did not say that."

"Well, he certainly didn't agree that she's 'nice' now, did he?" asks Ron smugly.

"Oh very clever, Ron, very clever." Hermione smiles rather wickedly again. "Not clever enough to see a potential date though."

"Besides, her nose is off-centre," quips Ron.

"Harry, perhaps you can speak to Ron about acceptable behaviour around girls?" she asks, before Harry grins and burps loudly. "Nevermind, oh... gross!"

"I'd be more concerned over his dress robes." Harry looks at Ron as the latter's about to retort angrily. "Heard it from a few people, yeah."

Now Ron suddenly appears surprised. "Oh no, blimey, has everyone heard about them? They're  _horrible_  and I'll never get a date while wearing those."

Hermione's expression turns to amusement as she responds, "You don't ask for a date while wearing them, silly. It's supposed to be a surprise for the Ball."

"A bloody hideous surprise at that," retorts Ron fearfully. "Enough to scare away whoever I get on the night, probably scar them for life."

"Being scarred for life isn't so bad, really," says a smirking Harry, before Hermione punches him on the shoulder.

"That is not funny at all!"

They soon reach the viaduct courtyard before approaching the doors to the entrance hall.

"Just leave it, Hermione," says Ron. "Probably better if I don't bother with the Ball at all." He then makes his way up the marble steps towards the grand staircase, leaving Harry standing alone with Hermione in the hall.

"What a stubborn boy he is," she sighs before turning to Harry. "Sorry about keeping the teeth thing a secret, it's just that I seized an opportunity to fix something that's drawn so much criticism."

"If you ask me, I'd say that as much as it's an improvement you're beautiful either way. But if it makes you feel any better then fair play for that."

"Thank you," replies a smiling Hermione. "And if you ask me, I would've certainly asked someone like you to the Ball if you were in Gryffindor."

"Let's not bring up that topic again, seriously. I've spent enough time going mental over that last year. But really, who are you taking to the Ball now?"

"That's my secret so please respect it."

"I promise not to let slip to anybody, please?"

"No."

"Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

Hermione laughs before still shaking her head at him. "Nope."

"I'll give you a dance at the Ball if you tell me. And I don't think Fleur wouldn't mind."

"Still not speaking a word, sorry but you'll just have to find out who he is at the Ball."

Soon, Harry walks around Hermione before standing at the foot of the marble staircase. His expression turns to one of sheer smugness as he smiles. "And do you really think you can fool the bona fide GPS of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

The question elicits a slightly confused look from Hermione before she appears shocked. "Global positioni— Oh no, Harry, you weren't. Tell me you were not watching us!"

"She's forever as clever as she is pretty, my Mugglebabe." He reaches to tuck a lock of bushy hair behind her ear. "The Map doesn't lie, and I'm like the king GPS satellite of this castle, yes."

A triumphant few seconds passes by for Harry as he sees Hermione covering her blushing cheeks with her palms before she speaks. "For Heaven's sake, please do not tell anyone about Viktor, please! I don't want an unnecessary bombardment of attention on me. He's actually a really nice guy who had to pluck up the courage to ask me out."

"Huh, so it is actually him, although I wasn't quite sure if you two were really talking. The Map doesn't specify what the dots are really doing..."

Hermione's mouth falls open as she gasps. "You tricky little slithering Slytherin!"

Gesturing to his temple while sporting a teasing smile, Harry nods. "Hey, it was you who outright identified your partner while I just led you on now. Feels good to outsmart the brainy, bushy, beautiful Miss Granger."

"If you tell anyone..." Hermione's threatening tone is interrupted by a most sudden kiss on the cheek from Harry.

"Don't worry, you secret's safe with me. Just be careful since I'm pretty sure that nosy reporter's gonna pop in as the Ball gets closer."

"Where are you off to now?" she asks, as Harry begins climbing the staircase.

"Let's just say that I'm gonna be playing a bit of Father Christmas mixed with some Robin Hood, well I won't be stealing though. And when you inevitably figure it out, please keep my secret safe, okay?"

"Figure what out?"

But Harry's already continued climbing up while heading towards the grand staircase now.

 


	26. An Unlikely Favour

For the fourth-year Slytherins, their penultimate week of term begins with a shared History of Magic class. But try as the Ravenclaws might, their sniggers and taunts over Slytherin's defeat does nothing to deflate Harry's mood. More than a few comments are passed with regards to a broken win streak, which has stood since the start of the 1990-91 season.

As Professor Binns drawls on with his curriculum of centuries back, Harry busies himself with seeing just what the fuss of Slytherin's defeat is all about. It helps that he's taken a copy of the past Hogwarts Quidditch seasons from the library. Therefore, while ignoring the ghostly Professor at the front of the class, Harry begins scribbling on a piece of parchment:

_85-86: Gryffindor won Cup_

_86-87: Hufflepuff won Cup_

_87-88: Ravenclaw won Cup_

_88-89: Hufflepuff won Cup_

_89-90: Ravenclaw won Cup_ _(Slytherin lost final match this year.)_

_90-91: Slytherin won Cup (start of win streak.)_

_Match 1: G vs S (Slytherin flattened Gryffindor. Terence Higgs beat Charlie to Snitch.)_

_Match 2: R vs S (Close Slytherin win.)_

_Match 3: H vs S (Very close win for Slytherin.)_

_91-92: Slytherin won Cup_

_Match 1: G vs S (Slytherin won, haha screw you Quirrell.)_

_Match 2: R vs S (Slytherin won.)_

_Match 3: H vs S (Slytherin won.)_

_92-93: Cup Cancelled_

_Match 1: G vs S (Rogue Bludger, I beat Roger Malone to the Snitch.)_

_Match _2: R vs S (Slytherin won.)__

_Match 3: H vs S (Slytherin won.)_

_G vs H match cancelled, Cup cancelled._

_93-94: Slytherin won Cup._

_Match 1: G vs S (Dementors in the clouds, invade pitch. Ginny almost won me.)_

_Match 2: R vs S (Slytherin won.)_

_Match 3: H vs S (Slytherin won.)_

_94-95: (ongoing)_

_Match 1: H vs S (Slytherin won.)_

_Match 2: R vs S (Ravenclaw won!...?)_

"Damn," mutters Harry, upon viewing his bit of record-keeping. Then, Pansy leans to whisper to him.

"The hell is that? You writing a friggin essay or something?"

"That's a 13 match win streak gone..oh, uh, Quidditch stuff," he replies, before turning to give Pansy an overly cute smile that has her giggling.

"Lemme see that." She swipes the parchment from his desk before frowning. "There are six matches per year, silly, it doesn't go like this."

Harry snorts with a soft laugh at her. "No, _silly_ , those are just Slytherin's matches. I didn't count the other teams'. That's why it's Match 1, 2, 3 per year, duh."

"I knew that," she replies haughtily, before dipping her quill and scribbling on Harry's parchment.

"Hey, what the hell?"

Minutes later, she returns it with a smile. "Here you go, enjoy."

Looking down at his desk, Harry sees that she's drawn little hearts across the parchment, while also adding to this year's record:

_Match 3: G vs S (Potter baby will win. He's just my sexy boy.)_

"Very charming of you," he says, to which Pansy gives an overly cute smile similar to Harry's earlier one. "Looking at me like I'm your piece of meat..."

Once the class ends, Harry counters any remarks about 'losing' with the fact that he's got Fleur Delacour to the Ball. Adding to this, Pansy sneers while staring down the Ravenclaws.

"So what if Harry's lost that match? He's got a different sort of win for the Ball. You geek boys and girls jealous yet?"

"Oh be quiet, Parkinson," replies Padma Patil, while standing at the classroom's exit.

"Out of our way, losers, Fleur Delacour's partner and I are coming through." Pansy tilts her nose in the air before leaving with Harry at her side.

While en route to Care of Magical Creatures, Harry turns to look at Pansy before speaking. "Hard to believe you're still not jealous yet."

"Pfft, whatever happens between you and Fleur at the Ball... let's consider it  _practice_  for the future. My Potter boy better get all the experience and endurance for when it's my turn someday, mwahaha."

"What the heck's going through your mind?" asks Harry, as they soon reach the grassy slopes outside.

"Anyway, change topic... I don't care how smart Granger is, I wanna make Prefect next year then Head Girl in our seventh," declares Pansy firmly.

"Darn, I believe in you... I really do. But it's probably a given that Hermione's gonna be Head girl in '97 to '98."

"Granger's just too damn smart for her own good, hmph! But I so really wanna be Head Girl just like Alyssa. At least you're gonna be Head Boy, right, Mister Champion?"

Having skipped the short break between their first two classes, Harry and Pansy now appear to be the first ones at Hagrid's cabin.

"Malfoy, Nott, and Zabini definitely have that aim as well. But Nott seems most driven to get it," replies Harry. "Maybe I just don't care because I've got plenty other things to worry about."

"One of those three as Head Boy would be the worst thing ever," says Pansy, with a gagging gesture.

"Says the girl who used to crush on Malfoy, am I right?" Harry flashes his brows teasingly at an unamused Pansy as she folds her arms.

"Well why wouldn't I? He's got status, rich, blond, and very influential. Could've probably been the big fish in this House had a certain someone gone elsewhere..."

"So you're saying he's better than me? Oh, okay, be like that then. Guess you prefer blonds after all."

"I do not!" Pansy scowls at an amused Harry as they stand near the pumpkin patch. "You've got better eyes and better hair, itty bitty baby Potter."

"Go on, I'm listening." A slight smile forms on Harry's face as he leans against Hagrid's garden fence while Pansy speaks.

"So you're not as tall as Draco, big deal. So Draco's got neater hair, big deal. So his father's got his nose in everyone's business, big deal." Pansy softens her expression before smiling once more. "You're just a better person overall. And more than half our House can clearly see that. Yeah, yeah don't let the compliments go to your head."

"Oh look, the little P is so sweet after all." Harry neatens Pansy's tie before seeing the rest of the students descending the slopes. "If you ask me, Nott and Zabini are probably the real cancers around here, until they change one day. I highly doubt that though."

"Of course they won't change," replies a whispering Pansy, while the students slowly approach the garden. "Nott's just like his father, both lusting after a Parkinson witch. That'll never ever change, oh gross!"

"That is disgusting indeed, ew. I still remember his dad from when we saw the Notts at the World Cup. He's way too old for your mum."

"Don't even talk about it, ugh, I don't wanna be sick."

"Well..." Harry whispers in Pansy's ear as Hagrid soon gets the class underway. "Can't fault Nott junior for eyeing this little Parkinson, yes."

"Shut up and listen to your beloved big oaf," she replies, though giggling nonetheless at Harry's comment.

As expected (and feared) by every student, Hagrid continues with his Blast-Ended Skrewt curriculum. Although only ten remain, they're now six feet in length and no less vicious than before. Once Hagrid's about to open one of the crates to check if the skrewts have been hibernating, Nott immediately speaks:

"This is a clear waste of time and places us all in danger."

"Shut up, Nott," says Harry swiftly, before the inter-Slytherin hostilities once again has the Gryffindors intrigued. They step back and eagerly observe the action.

"Don't you speak like that to me, Potter, you—"

Harry yawns as he speaks. "Yeah, yeah, Half-Blood and all that. Tell me something new already."

"Nott, yeh ruddy little... five points from Slytherin fer tha' insult you were abou' ter throw at 'em."

Harry grins before softly laughing. "Well, this is awkward indeed."

Seconds later, the skrewts burst free from their crates before rampaging across the garden.

"Hope one of them gets you, Potter," laughs Nott before heading for Hagrid's cabin. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini soon hurriedly follow him into the safety of the house. Then, Harry requests Pansy and the girls to follow.

"Don't you want our help with this?" asks Daphne.

"Nah, go make sure those boys don't do anything stupid in Hagrid's house," says Harry, before Pansy leads the girls inside.

"Have fun with the Gryffindors," she sniggers, before barricading the group of ten Slytherins in the cabin. Their faces now peering out the window to observe the chaos.

"Now don' panic!" says Hagrid to the remainder of the class, as ten skrewts continue their rampage across the garden. "Oh, and Harry, ten points ter Slytherin. Forgo' how awkward it is ter punish tha' lot without affecting yeh as well."

"Over three years in, and I still don't understand Harry Potter that much," says Parvati Patil, as Harry happily teams up with Hermione. The pair now has Ron and, reluctantly, the rest of the Gryffindor boys joining up to reign in nine skrewts. Meanwhile, the girls simply watch and cheer on.

The final skrewt soon lunges at Dean and Seamus before Harry casts a shield charm to block the burst of flames.

"This does not make us friends, now watch where you're going," says Harry, before Roger Malone runs to help his fellow Gryffindors. Then, Hagrid leaps atop the final skrewt to prevent it from cornering Harry and Ron at the cabin.

"Oh my gosh," gasps Hermione, as Hagrid tugs away the final skrewt towards its fellows nearby. All ten now seem to be restrained with ropes tightly bound around their stingers.

"Whoa, talk about a Hagrid-slam!" laughs Harry softly, while looking at the half-amused, half-concerned Hermione. But one glance to their right spots Rita Skeeter leaning on the garden fence and observing the action.

"That looked like fun, oh, Harry,  _you're_  here!" she says, before suddenly flashing a rather sly grin upon seeing him with the Gryffindors. "Taking my article to heart, eh?"

"What a nice and sappy little piece that was, I almost shed a tear," he replies swiftly, while standing beside a slightly annoyed Hermione. The latter clearly shows her disapproval of Rita being here now, especially as an interview with Hagrid is eventually arranged for later in the week. Later today, at some point during lunch, a quick bit of hostilities is exchanged in the viaduct courtyard.

"What's the use of being in Slytherin for you, Potter? Over three years in and you're basically just a Gryffindor in our uniform stuffed into this House," says Nott, before Harry laughs dryly.

"What did you expect me to be then?"

"Something better than what you are now, Half-Blood. Embrace your wizarding side and throw away all Muggle stuff, that includes your friendship with the Mudblood. You should be sorting out your life now already, and try to be planning great things ahead."

A sly grin crosses Harry's face before he replies, "I know someone who did those kinda things and it didn't end well."

"Who?"

"Don't bother asking." Harry's expression turns to a glare as the two Slytherins stand in the courtyard. "Did you really expect being in Slytherin to completely change me? No, I am better than  _that_  because there's no way I'm letting a House decide who I am. So you can keep living the foolish life of thinking it's all about Purebloods because it's not."

"Everything you do is too Gryffindor-ish to be called a Slytherin. Why take on the Horntail like that when there could've been ways to outsmart it? Why bother with this Tournament at all if there's already a Gryffindor in it? Why are you friends with Granger, and not shunning her outright? You're wasting your time in Slytherin."

"Why should I care? You don't have to be in Gryffindor to show a little bravery, and you don't have to be in Slytherin to show a little cunning. Wake up, man, because I'll do whatever I like in whatever House I'd have been in."

Harry's response has Nott wordlessly leaving the courtyard before the former now heads back to the entrance hall.

"You get into such arguments all the time?" asks Alyssa, who seems to have been standing in the doorway watching the pair argue.

"Not really, just the occasional one with idiots like Theodore Nott who think life's all about blood status."

"Well, personally I'd prefer a Pureblood husband some day. But I guess I don't really have an issue if life decides to make him a Half. The problem with being 100% fixated on only Pure is the lack of options... and eventually turning out that like Nott guy. He's not exactly the most handsomest of all, eh?"

"No comment," replies an amused Harry. "So, I suppose even you Parkinsons don't truly stress over such stuff?"

"I dunno about the others, but my mum and dad said if our family tree ever drops to Half it can at least be brought back up to Pure someday. They just forbid bringing in Muggles, that's all. You see, to be classified as 'Pureblood' means both your parents and grandparents can't be Muggleborn. Mind if I use you as an example?" asks Alyssa.

"No problem, explain away. I think I know this stuff anyway."

"So, suppose Harry Potter gets married to a Pureblood Parkinson, 'cos that's what we are, and has kids. Well, your mum was Muggleborn so those kids will all be Half-Blood. But should those children marry anyone classified as Pureblood then the family status goes back up to Pure. Eventually, the Muggleborn bit will go up the family tree until someone marries a Muggleborn again, rinse and repeat. Just stay away from the Muggles, that's all, they can't be trusted."

"Everyone comes up with so many different ideas of Pureblood that it's starting to sound silly to me. Some said that having even one Muggle, Muggleborn, or Half-Blood on the family tree irreversibly takes away the Pureblood status," says Harry, while now standing in the centre of the entrance hall and facing Alyssa.

"That's not possible these days so the logical person has to give a little leeway. There are so few Pureblood—by that extreme definition you've said— families out there now that it'll just be close cousins banging each other all day long. Only a matter of time before some inbred child loses their mind and goes mental."

"I'll never understand you picky wizarding people," admits Harry.

"Hey, we're not all so super picky with these things. Maybe just a little bit cautious at times, yeah. It's the Muggles who are the real threat because I can only imagine their reaction to our world if more and more ever found out. Filthy, hating, jealous, conniving things that they are. I mean, the Muggle world's already screwed up with conspiracy theories and all that government stuff. Makes even Voldemort in our world from decades back look tame. But, lemme not keep you from your next class, Harry."

With Charms being fourth-year Slytherin's third, and final, class of Monday, they soon find themselves listening to Flitwick. He uses Harry's performance in the first task as an example of timely focus and effective casting of spells in even the most stressful of circumstances. After class, everyone but Harry soon heads their separate ways to complete some assignments.

"Weren't you planning on finishing that History of Magic write-up for Thursday?" asks Millicent, while seeing Harry about to head off towards the ground floor level.

"Later, maybe, got something to do right now," he replies, before hurrying off all the way to the middle courtyard. Since today's fourth class is about to start in a few minutes for others, Harry hopes to make it in time to catch Professor McGonagall before she starts. Indeed, he arrives at an empty Classroom 1B with just ten minutes to go until its students arrive. Sitting at her desk, McGonagall looks up with a slight expression of surprise before she speaks.

"Are you lost, Mr. Potter? I'd have thought over three years would be enough to have you find your way around?"

Harry suppresses his embarrassed smile and inwardly sighs. He ponders the fact that even Professors tend to be sarcastic towards him at times. "Hi, Professor, I was wondering if I could ask a favour. A really extraordinary one though, but I don't think my Head of House would approve at all."

She now stands up from her desk before walking towards the centre of the room. "Whatever makes you believe that I might approve of something Professor Snape would not? Granted, there are exceptions, but let's hear what you'd like to request."

"I just thought I'd spare someone the shame of a schooling lifetime, okay so he's not exactly my best friend at all. But I mean a friend of a friend of mine might deserve better than what he's got now."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to be more specific because this makes absolutely no sense. If anything, it sounds even more suspicious. You're not planning anything I should really be concerned about, right?" McGonagall gives Harry that stern over-the-glasses look which could scare any student.

He then blushes in embarrassment, struggles to state his request due to pride, and finally practically blurts out the statement. "Ugh, darn, fine! Okay, but please never ever tell anyone about this, please?"

"What in Heaven's sake is going on with you right now? Do you require the Hospital wing? Because your behaviour seems highly odd, more so than usual even for you," replies a concerned McGonagall.

"I... I saw Ronald Weasley's dress robes, ma'am, and they're horrendous! He's Hermione's friend so I just wanted to know if I could get permission to be escorted maybe to Hogsmeade soon? To buy him a new pair of something acceptable?"

Harry's request certainly seems to have caught the Professor off-guard as she now ponders this decision.

"Very thoughtful, but you do understand that you're testing boundaries here, right? The next Hogsmeade visit isn't until the sixteenth of January next year. Besides, what would Mrs. Weasley think if her son suddenly receives an anonymous gift that's far better than what she could've afforded? Would that not come across as quite a humiliating insult to her?"

"I suppose I haven't thought about it that way," admits Harry softly. "Guess I got too caught up on looking prim and proper..."

"I respect your good intentions, Mr. Potter, so perhaps I can offer a word of advice. If Mr. Weasley's dress robes weigh so heavily on your conscience then make use of magic to lessen the issue. Let's see what you can come up with before the Yule Ball, might be a good learning opportunity for you."

"Thanks, ma'am. I'll ask around for assistance but will have to get my hands on those dress robes without Ronald knowing..."

"I'll pretend that I've not heard that last part. Now, kindly allow my third years to have their Transfiguration class."

To Harry's surprise, he turns around to see the Gryffindors slowly entering their final class of the day. Various looks of surprise are sent his way as he walks past them before spotting Ginny at the back of the group.

"Harry? What are you doing here?" she asks, while visibly confused and surprised. "Never mind that, um, sorry about your loss on Saturday. That must've really sucked, am I right? All your hard work only to have Malfoy stuff it up in the end. I guess Chang was right about him being the weaker link."

"Ugh, don't worry about that. Right now I've got something more important in mind. Um, could you do me a favour? Keep it a top-secret though."

Ginny whispers to Harry as they stand in the classroom's entrance. "What do you need? Don't you already have a partner to the Ball, Phlegm?"

"Close but no cigar... You're right in that it's got to do with the Ball but not so much me than Ronald. I guess it's sheer dumb luck that you just so happened to be here now, right as I'm looking for a way to get my hands on his robes. Think you can smuggle it out of his dorm for me?"

"If this is a joke then it's not funny. I don't mind playing pranks on my brothers, quite love it actually. But humiliating Ron even further with his already _horrible_ dress robes is too much. Not the Yule Ball, Harry, I'm sorry. Prank Ron on some other occasion but mum and the rest of us would never recover from a stuffed Ball. Not even Fred and George would go that far on such an auspicious occasion. Probably a once in a lifetime opportunity, and Ron doesn't even have a partner yet."

"Would you quit the sermon and give me a chance to speak? Who said anything about me pranking him? I know you're capable of getting in and out quite easily there, since you snatched the diary when I lent it to Ronald for one evening—"

"I was possessed!"

"Anyway, look, don't you trust me?" asks Harry, while putting his hands on his hips and giving Ginny his usual smile.

"Ugh, fine then. Borrow me that Invisibility Cloak of yours and I'll get those robes even easier for you. Ron keeps it out of sight in his trunk and hasn't looked at it since start of school."

Harry pats the worried Ginny on her shoulder as he speaks. "Good girl. We can meet up at the Owlery after dinner tonight, alright?"

"Yes, but remember that I trust you. Whatever you happen to have planned... well... just don't break mum's heart, okay?"

"Relax, man."

Just as they'd planned, Harry and Ginny do meet up at the Owlery in a few hours' time where the Cloak is borrowed to Ginny. Once she's en route to her common room, Harry pulls out the Marauder's Map to check her progress. Her named dot makes its way up the stairs to the boys' dormitories before entering the empty fourth-year one. Then, Ginny weaves her way through the gradually filling common room before coming down the grand staircase to make her way through the fourth floor corridor. As she nears the Owlery, Harry conceals the Map before stuffing it into his pocket once more.

"Like a pro, I am so proud of my little cloaked ninja," he laughs, as Ginny takes off the Cloak and stands with Ron's second-hand dress robes in hand.

"Hmph, and what if you weren't lucky enough to come across me today, huh?"

"Never mind that, but thanks for this. Say, are you going to the Ball?" asks Harry, who's reluctant to offend Ginny by admitting that he could've just summoned Dobby to get these robes even quicker now.

"Of course I am, Neville's my partner. Well, to be fair I was really hoping it'd be you, Mister Slytherin," she replies rather regretfully. "But I guess the Triwizard Boy-Who-Lived has high standards these days, hmm? What've you got planned for Phlegm besides chatting, eating together, and dancing at the Ball?"

"Uh, clean your mind please."

"Uh, clean  _your_  mind please," replies Ginny teasingly as she nudges him in the side. "I want full details someday."

"Could you perhaps tell me the password to your common room? I'll spare you the trouble of having to run my errands again."

" _Balderdash,_  not gonna be spying on us now, huh? Spying on Angelina for the Tournament?" asks Ginny amusedly.

"That never even crossed my mind."

"Well now it did, oops did I just give ze 'Arry Potter an advantage?"

"Miss Weasley! How dare you be so sneaky against your own Champion?" asks Harry, in a mock-scolding tone.

"How dare she kick me off the biggest match of the year, this special year, just to get back at you? Win or lose I would've so loved to fly against you this year, Harry, you have no idea...

"I don't care what Johnson's doing in the Tournament, it's her Quidditch plans that interest me."

"Don't bother trying, because she's placed a couple of Sneakoscopes somewhere in the locker room. And we all know that you've got that Invisibility Cloak, pretty awesome one too. Still looks brand new after all these years."

"Are there any Sneakoscopes in your common room, my little spy?"

"Nope, can't be, since people lie and cheat on homework all the time. It'll be a nightmare of noise all day and night long. Anything else you wanna know, oh high-and-mighty King of Slytherin?"

"No, my little peasant, you are dismissed."

"That better be a joke, Harry Potter," replies Ginny sternly.

"It is but this one's not: would you like a dance at the Ball? You've been super helpful lately."

"Yes, definitely!" Ginny grabs him into a brief hug before beaming with a smile.

"We'll keep it short and sweet—"

"Like you."

"—oh shut up, Ginevra. As I was saying... short and sweet so we don't make Neville feel too bad, 'cos he's still your partner."

"Yeah, right, sure. Then you'll go off to get laid by Phlegm."

"What makes you say that?" asks a rather surprised Harry, while Ginny gives him an unamused look

"Oh please, I've seen the way she looks at you, even behind your back. Like... some predator stalking their prey, she's certainly gonna do you at the Ball. She wants your snake."

"You're so funny, Ginevra Molly Weasley. Well, at least Fleur didn't go around setting a big snake on people during her first year, hmm? Come on, where's that cheeky response, little Miss Weasley? I'm waiting...cat got your tongue? Crookshanks got your tongue?" Harry guffaws with a sudden loud laugh. "Peter Scabbers Pettigrew got your tongue—ouch!"

Ginny reaches to pull Harry's ear until he puts his palms together to beg for forgiveness, while he's backed up against the wall.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, ow! Actually... keep on pinching me, yes."

Then, she groans loudly before letting go of his ear and putting her hands in her pockets. "Hmph, be grateful you're not in my House."

"Why? Is there a red-haired lioness gonna jump me on the bed?" Harry grins smugly before ruffling Ginny's hair as he walks past her towards the exit. "You coming?"

"I'll keep my distance so anyone who happens to be out and about doesn't see us together. You never know if any of the team might be out now."

"Cheers, Ginny, have a good night's sleep and don't dream too much about me."

"I once had one about you and a snake."

"Where did I put that snake, hmm?"

The remark elicits yet another blush on Ginny's part. "Not  _that_  snake, I meant the big one—"

"Yeah, that's mine."

"—the Basilisk! Oh, you've got such a dirty mind, you know."

Harry simply laughs before hurrying to an empty classroom with Ron's robes, and the Invisibility Cloak, in hand. As it's now just a tad before 6pm, he smiles upon entering the room.

"Thanks for waiting, I got it, so would you mind helping out a bit?"

"Ze leetle man 'as such a soft 'eart at times, shame. Let us 'urry it up because I would like to be back at ze carriage by 8pm."

After dropping the robes onto the desk between them, Harry spots Fleur gasping at his Cloak.

" _Merde_! Zis Inveesibility Cloak is quite beautiful. 'Ow old is it? Because it does look brand new."

"From my dad's time at least, I think."

"Vairy impressive zat it 'as not gotten less invisible—"

"Opaque? Translucent?"

"—shut zat pretty mouth please. Oops..."

"Hey, wait! Argh, so immature for a seventeen year old," sighs Harry, once Fleur's slipped under the Cloak, and out of sight. Seconds pass by before Harry speaks again. "This isn't funny, Fleur. Where are you?"

He searches all across the room before two hands suddenly grab at his sides, both tickling and startling him.

"I could 'ave grabbed at somezing else, yes? But jokes aside let us now stop acting immature and finish ze task at 'and." Fleur takes off and folds the Invisibility Cloak before neatly putting it on a nearby desk. She then takes one look at Ron's robes and essentially gawks in disbelief. "I do not know zis boy but zis is  _très épouvantable_!"

"What on the table now?" asks a confused Harry, while scratching the side of his hair.

"Silly boy, I said zat it is very 'orrible.  _Très_ means 'very' or 'much', and  _épouvantable_ means ''orrible', 'terreeble', or whatever uzzer Eenglish seenonyms zere are for zat. Understand?"

Harry simply nods while smiling kindly at her, although now noting what Ginny's made mention of. Indeed, Fleur does seem to have a tinge of mischief in her expression when looking at him, and it certainly excites Harry a fair bit.

"So, got any ideas on how we're going to fix this  _très_  horreeble disaster?" he asks, while looking at the dress robes of maroon with lace at its collar and cuffs.

"Ze lace must evidently—"

"You can use other words as well. I noticed you tend to use 'evidently' quite a bit when words like 'truly', 'clearly', 'certainly' can also be used. Try them out here." Harry grins smugly but spots Fleur giving him a look that certainly catches his attention.

"Okay zen, Meester Smarty-pants, ze lace must clearly be removed first. Zat is ze priority number one 'ere. Show me zose Charms skills of yours."

At Fleur's request, Harry draws his wand and casts a few well-placed severing charms to cut off all traces of lace.

"Very good of you, 'Arry, very good indeed. Zat is evid-, um, truly good work zere. Next up we shall Transfeeger ze style just a leetle bit, uzzerwise zis boy's muzzer might zink 'e 'as bought new robes. Zat will be an insult, yes?"

"I was thinking the same thing, yeah, you don't know the Weasleys like I do. Poor and yet they have their pride."

"Zis is zat boy with ze reddish 'air zat we charmed, right? If so, zen I guess ze colour of maybe charcoal black would be better zan maroon. Does zat sound okay to you, 'Arry?"

"As perfect as you look, yes."

"Zank you very much, but I 'ave 'eard zat one many times before. We shall use ze colour-changing spell now, do you know it?"

"A little bit, I guess."

"Zen let us do it togezer, and please do not destroy zis boy's poor dress robes. If zis is all zey can afford, zen zey truly cannot buy anuzzer one."

Harry lets Fleur take the lead before he follows through with the  _Multicorfors_  spell, effectively changing the maroon to charcoal black. Although there are a few patches of the wrong colour cast by him, Fleur nonetheless clears it up accordingly while softly laughing at him.

"And zere we are done we ze colour change, looks better zan before, yes. No lace, new colour, now we shall add a leetle teeny tiny bit of a shine to it."

Sitting in a desk with his head resting on his palms, Harry watches in delight as Fleur continues her work. Her expression of focus and concentration seems remarkably cute, in Harry's opinion. Now Ron's robes appear to have a slight tinge of a shine which makes it look decades newer than before.

"By ze way, 'oo is zis boy's partner to ze Yule Ball?"

"That's a good question, he doesn't have one yet."

"No wonder 'e was too scared to ask, zese robes looked like rubbish before!"

"But now I guess it looks fine," says Harry. "All that's left is to hope he gets a partner, hmm..."

Once the last bit of magical alterations are made, they look upon their work with pride before Harry thanks Fleur for her help.

"You can make it up by taking me back to ze carriage, under ze Cloak. Ah, a stroll beneath ze stars and moon outside, yes," says Fleur, before Harry does exactly that. As he walks with her behind him, the slightest whiff of perfume catches his attention.

Later, after greeting Fleur for the night, Harry makes his way from the Beauxbatons carriage all the way back to the castle. He's decided upon wearing the dress robes to make the trip beneath the Cloak easier, and soon Harry ascends the grand staircase up to the seventh floor. But right before he slips off the Cloak, he suddenly realizes the foolishness of thinking he could simply mutter the password and enter.

He wonders if Ginny does as well since she'd so casually given away the password to a Slytherin. Knowing the password is one thing, but for Harry to simply walk in would be silly indeed. Therefore, he heads to the seventh floor corridor and activates the Marauder's Map. After hoping for a good few minutes, he grins as Neville Longbottom ascends the staircase towards the portrait. Harry therefore quickly exits the seventh floor corridor before making it in time to follow Neville into the Gryffindor common room.

Having been here before, the difference in atmosphere compared to that of his own common room barely even bothers Harry anymore. Keeping his eyes on the Map, as well as looking around, he soon makes his way up the staircase to eventually reach the fourth-year boys' dormitory. Once again, he takes a moment to look around and briefly wonder which bed would've been his had he came to Gryffindor. But sentiments aside, Harry slips off Ron's dress robes, cleans it with a spell, then lays it out flat on his bed. With everything set, Harry squats on the ground, while beneath the Cloak, as he waits for someone to enter this room.

"...yeah, just gonna see if I can find that football magazine to show yo— What the heck?"

Harry grins while watching an astonished Dean approach Ron's bed before lifting the changed robes in disbelief. He then throws it over his shoulder before hurrying off towards the staircase, with Harry creeping behind.

"Ron! Ron, you've gotta see this!" yells Dean to the fairly packed common room, though there seems enough room for Harry to manoeuvre. Looking around, he spots Ginny sitting on a chair near the window, Hermione at a table with an assignment, and various other Gryffindors sitting about.

"Dean, are you mental? Don't go showing my disgusting dress robe— wait a minute." Ron nearly runs across the room before holding out his robes. "Oi! Whose idea of a joke is this?"

Nobody replies, not even Fred and George as the common room goes fairly silent. It seems more than a few people are shocked, which tells Harry that Ron's formerly bad dress robes was in fact public knowledge here.

"Fred, George, what did you guys do to this?" asks Ron, while holding his robes up high for all to see.

"Nothing! I swear none of us did anything," replies Fred, while a surprised George nods in agreement. "You sure that isn't new?"

Ron appraises the robes for a few seconds before shaking his head. "No, most certainly not. This is exactly the same one mum bought me. Blimey, look at it now! It looks... brand new, and no more bloody lace, no silly maroon colour, it looks brilliant! Who did this? Don't be shy now, speak up, lads and ladies."

Once again, many a student shrugs and looks around before shaking their heads. Harry moves to a corner as more students come to view the action, equally as shocked as their peers.

"Are those new?"

"Way to go, Ron!"

"That was unexpected."

But Harry remains sticking around to watch the scenario unfold even further, as some of the girls come down to see what's happening. Lavender Brown, Eloise Midgen, and Fay Dunbar now stand just over a metre away from the invisible Harry, who sits back and continues to watch with a smile.

 


	27. The End of Term

_Gryffindor Common Room, Monday December 7th, 1994, 19h00._

"No, seriously guys, who the bloody hell did this? I really owe you one, whoever you are." Ron remains standing in the centre of the room while still holding his robes up high.

"I think we all owe our mysterious benefactor for sparing us the sight of what was once Ron's awful robes indeed," says George, whose laughter is shared around the still-amazed room of students.

"My Sickles are on Hermione doing this, right? She's the smart one with spells around here," declares Ron, causing Hermione to shut her book and shake her head while still impressed.

"Wasn't me, I swear."

Fred interrupts with a bit of commentary. "Well of course it couldn't be her. I mean, if it was her then she'd give a speech about her S.P.E.W. campaign as well. Nah, I doubt it was our Granger."

The swift jab has Hermione scowling at the laughing Fred (as well as the entire room) before she indignantly returns to her books. "Hmph! You'll all see how wrong slavery is one day, just gotta wake up and smell the coffee I say."

But her comment goes uncared for as most of the common room returns to congratulating Ron on his 'miraculous' bit of good fortune. Some speculate that a Professor's done it, while others even joke about the House Elves feeling so sorry for Ron's original dress robes.

"Hey, Ron!" calls a fifth-year Gryffindor boy. "Maybe now you can try to ask Fleur Delacour to the Ball and get a result?"

Murmurs of disagreement echo across the room while Harry sits smug beneath his Cloak. It's clear that Fleur is right at the top of everyone's list right now, no wonder they're all so jealous of him.

"Nah, been there and can't try that again," admits Ron rather dejectedly. "Wishful thinking though but she's Potter's girl."

Now McLaggen, who's sitting at another table, pipes in. "Does anybody know how the hell someone like Potter ended up with that chick? He doesn't deserve a girl like  _that,_ it's ridiculous!"

A sixth-year Gryffindor boy also adds in his say. "If Potter had any sense he'd see that she's clearly just using him for the Tournament. Remember how she danced with her arms up and shook her arse for the crowd after getting the egg? No way someone that hot would fall for Potter when there's other lads around here."

He's heard all this before, and therefore Harry doesn't bother getting upset in the least. Soon, Angelina laughs before addressing the common room from her spot on the couch near the fireplace.

"Don't worry about Harry Potter too much, let him have his fun with Fleur Delacour. She'll turn on him soon enough when the Tournament reaches its end stages, probably by the third task, whatever it may be. But speaking of Potter, don't forget to bring as many family and friends as you all can to watch our match against Slytherin this year. Write down the 30th of January in case you need people to take leave. To see the game of a lifetime go down as we win the Cup."

Many in the common room still have no clue as to the exact nature of Angelina's plan with Krum, except for the Quidditch team who keep silent regarding this matter. Try as they might, nobody else can get any clarification about the sneaky surprise which Harry's supposedly unaware of, though he's grateful for already having been tipped off by Ginny.

"Will anybody say what's so special about Slytherin vs Gryffindor this year? I mean, I know it's the Triwizard Tournament year and all but why bring in a bigger crowd?" asks Hermione.

"Sorry, Granger, but that's our little idea we've got going right now. Don't worry about it and focus on your academic stuff," replies Angelina.

"It better not be something illicit like gambling on the match or anything," replies Hermione firmly, to which Angelina laughs with most of the team.

Minutes later, Ron rather awkwardly tries to ask Lavender to the Ball, though she's already been taken by McLaggen. Parvati also appears to have been asked by Seamus while Dean has settled with Eloise. But then Fay notes that she's free since having turned down McLaggen before. Minutes later, the group of students still in the room now applaud Ron as he finally gets his date. Meanwhile, Harry turns to look at Hermione who seems to be almost scowling towards Angelina. No doubt she's trying to figure out just what tricks the new Captain has up her sleeve, but even Hermione seems completely clueless now.

"All I can say is that after our match with Slytherin their Champion won't be so bloody arrogant anymore," states Angelina cryptically. "Don't worry about it, folks."

With the shock of Ron's improved dress robes (and partnering with Fay Dunbar) now fizzling out, Harry creeps over towards Ginny before caressing her thigh. She gasps softly enough that very few, if any, notice her standing up.

"What's wrong, Ginny?" asks the third year girl seated opposite her at the window.

"I... forgot something outside I think."

Harry follows her to the portrait which Ginny has opened to let them both out, then she waits for a few seconds before stifling her smile as Harry pats her on the thigh again. The latter heads back down the staircases while Ginny soon returns to her unsuspecting common room.

Following yet another enjoyable Defence Against the Dark Arts class on Tuesday, Harry decides to spend most of his lunch hour with Fleur. Therefore, after he stands up and extends his hand for her to take, Harry tries to ignore the comments from the surrounding girls.

"Oh, we understand," says a sniggering Pansy. "Go search the school for those secret spots to use during the Yule Ball."

"If push comes to shove, there's always the Forbidden Forest... to do 'forbidden' things, huh?" asks Daphne.

"Take her to the Quidditch pitch where she'll ride your broom," says Millicent.

"Just ignore them," mutters Harry to Fleur, as Sally-Anne and Tracey add their obscene remarks to the conversation. "Ignore, ignore, ignore..."

Once Harry and Fleur have left the Great Hall, the latter now turns to glance at him as they stroll near the viaduct bridge.

"'Ave you feegured out ze golden egg yet?"

Taken aback by the sudden Triwizard question, Harry eyes her rather nervously. Now he wonders whether there might be some truth to Angelina's words from last night.

"Yes," he lies, deciding to gauge Fleur's reaction.

Her eyes widen, and her expression turns to quite genuine surprise. "What? But why did you not tell me zen, 'Arry? And 'ere I am wizout a seengle clue as to what ze stupid screaming egg means. I could be ze only one 'oo does not know what is coming for us. Ze uzzers, and now you, are all busy preparing very nicely for ze February twenty-four—"

"Fleur."

"—and if I did not ask zen you might 'ave still—"

"Fleur, calm down already."

"—I 'elped you with zat Weezy boy's dress robes but you did not tell me about ze eg—"

Harry swiftly brings his finger to her lips before speaking. "Shhhh! I honestly don't know anything about the clue, was just joking." Then he withdraws his finger and sees her scowling while giving him an appraising look.

"Of course you do not know, zat was a silly joke, yes. My 'Arry Potter would not lie to me about such zings." Fleur seems to be speaking more to convince herself than anyone else. "You must be speaking ze truth, I 'ope. Because I am not liking it when boys tell false promises, 'alf-truths or lies to me."

Scratching the back of his hair nervously, Harry looks her in the eye, those deep blue eyes now fixed upon him. "Sounds like you're talking from experience?"

"Like I already said, ze boys do tend to be silly towards me at times, very much so all zese years. But I do not like it when zey zink to see me as just ze veela-girl while zey go off and overtake me too much. I do not like being left behind in many zings."

"Well, sorry for making that terrible joke. I didn't know you were gonna overreact like this."

"I am not overreacting," replies Fleur, whose expression turns confident once more. "You are ze one 'oo is overreacting being all apologetic now."

"What?" Harry gawks, open-mouthed, as Fleur smugly walks ahead. "I'll never ever understand this girl, hey, wait up!"

"Yes, run my leetle Quidditch man," laughs Fleur, as Harry jogs to catch up to her near the viaduct entrance. Once they enter the building, Fleur sees the stone staircase ahead leading up to the first floor. "Ugh, stone everywhere in zis big, stony, ugly castle. Zere is almost no shine anywhere around 'ere."

"I see some shine right here," says Harry, while deciding to stand behind and run his hands through Fleur's waist-length, silky soft hair. Then he reaches beneath to massage her surprisingly tense neck. "You are quite stressed out, Madame."

"And you are not? Ah, I see, my 'Arry finds uzzer ways of relieving 'is stress, yes? Ways involving zose rough 'ands and his"—Fleur giggles while turning a slight bit red—" _leetle_  broomstick down below."

"I will show you right now that I'm not little down there!" declares Harry firmly, while Fleur folds her arms and glances at him quite daringly.

"Okay, I am waiting, eet is almost time for your next class."

"Uh, well..." Seconds pass by as Harry hesitates to actually do anything obscene now while simply fidgeting around. Then, Fleur smirks before patting him on the head quite condescendingly.

"Aww, 'e is still scared to show anyzing zat should not be shown in public. Zere zere young boy, do not 'umiliate yourself out 'ere. Oh, but your tie is quite untidy today." Fleur shakes her head while loosening and redoing Harry's tie until it's in proper order. "I like ze green and silver colours, eet does suit you vairy well, especially with zose eyes."

Before Harry can swiftly respond, he spots various fourth-year Gryffindors now entering the viaduct entrance, en route to the spiral staircase behind him. But he ignores them while looking at Fleur, who now wraps her arms around his neck before whispering:

"Zey are ze ones 'oo gossip much about us, yes? Well, let us make zem zink we 'ave been kissing very much now. Put your arms around my waist, 'Arry."

"So friggin naughty and I love it." Harry swiftly wraps his arms around Fleur's shapely waist. She then leans forward to place her forehead against his, stopping just short of actually kissing him. Soon, the Gryffindors express a variety of surprised reactions while walking past, and Harry truly enjoys being this close to Fleur.

"Bloody hell!" Ron walks past before he, as well as the rest of the boys, need to be almost dragged off by their female classmates.

Eloise and Hermione shake their heads at Harry and Fleur as they walk towards the spiral staircase, while Fay hurries the boys downstairs. Most of the giggling and loud whispers come from Lavender and Parvati, who certainly take their time walking past the seemingly intimate pair of Triwizard Champions. Knowing the two Gryffindor's are eavesdropping, Fleur winks at Harry before whispering far too loudly:

"Oh, 'Arry, your lips are so soft and lovely, your bum so nice and firm. I could kiss zis adorable boy all day long, yes."

He responds with a loud whisper of his own. "I'd prefer it without the uniforms, actually..."

With giggles and gasps, Lavender and Parvati swiftly make their way down the staircase before Harry and Fleur step back from each other and snigger with laughter.

"That was so amazingly hilarious, Fleur! I hope you're not trying to turn me into public enemy number one around here? Isolating me from the rest so I'm easy pickings for the Tournament, huh?"

"Eef zat is what you believe zen so be it. But I was merely 'aving a bit of fun with zose gossiping bunch of idiots."

"I know, I know, relax. Don't get your knickers in a knot," laughs Harry, while leaning against the wall to his right. "Well, I guess it's Potions for me now."

"Zen we should be 'urrying to get you zere." Fleur now leads Harry by his hand down the spiral staircase towards the dungeons.

They soon reach the Potions classroom where Snape stands at its entrance. "Potter, you've got sixty seconds to get into this room." He then swiftly turns before stepping into the class while Fleur nudges Harry in the side.

"Zat Snape man sort of reminds me of you, 'Arry. Just make you taller and less funny, yes indeed."

"Catch you later, gotta get to class on the double!" Harry hurries off (much to Fleur's amusement) to enter the class where Snape checks his watch.

"Fifteen seconds from being late, now get to your seat."

Through sniggers, whispers, and glares from the Gryffindors, Harry hurries to sit at his seat opposite Pansy. The latter now grinning wickedly from behind her hand. "So, heard you finally got your first real kiss?"

"Nah, we were just having fun with the Gryffindors."

"Aw, what? Maybe next time then, shame."

"Miss Parkinson, you seem eager to have me either snogged or get laid, what gives? You're strange," admits Harry, while eyeing her rather curiously. "Not like any of us actually did any of this stuff yet."

After yet another class on brewing antidotes (in preparation for Snape's wicked statement of intending to poison someone in this class), the Slytherin fourth-years make their way towards the Charms classroom on the second floor. But it's much of the same as yesterday as Flitwick carries on with his curriculum, although taking a break from praising Harry's performance in the first task.

As the days move on towards the final week of term, Harry finds himself being forgiven by the Slytherin girls for spending much time with Fleur. Whether at breakfast, lunch, between classes, or even afterwards (including at dinner) the pair of Champions soon become essentially inseparable. Adding to this, general suspicions are raised even further as Alyssa (usually with Pansy at her side) also seems to be hanging out with Harry and Fleur quite often. The second Beauxbatons Champion has now become something of an 'older Pansy' to Harry, as her personality and sense of humour seems nearly identical, if not slightly more matured.

"Yes! Finally we have some improvement," says Harry, on Friday (the 18th) morning after breakfast. He finds himself laying across Fleur's lap as she sits stroking his hair in an empty classroom. "Now you're better able to say 'th' when it's in the middle of a word."

With nearly every class, bar Potions, having already finished for this term, most of the school is practically free for the day. But for those due to see Snape, such as fourth-year Gryffindor and Slytherin after lunch, it's just a matter of waiting for the end-of-term test later today.

"I do still struggle with some words, like 'uzzer' and 'muzzer'."

"But what House am I in, hmm?" asks Harry, while enjoying the role reversal since he's usually the one to caress Fleur as they relax.

"Why eet is none uzzer zan Slytherin House of course. Practice makes perfect, and zere is something on your glasses, let me clean it." Fleur smiles warmly while casting a nonverbal cleaning spell on him. "Very much cleaner now, or would you rather prefer it misty and dirty like before?"

"No thanks." Harry reaches up to gently grab a fistful of silvery blonde hair as it flows over Fleur's shoulder. "Wish my hair was so neat and perfect like this, ugh, even Malfoy has neater hair than me."

"Stop stresseeng about your 'air, seriously. Zere is nothing much wrong with ze way it looks now, quite 'andsomely untidy, if such a zing exists." She now removes Harry's glasses before folding it up and placing them at her side.

"All I see is blur, lovely silvery blonde hair, and two pretty blue eyes. Oh, and clear, perfect skin, yes," he says, while looking up as he remains on Fleur's lap. "Are you smiling at me?"

"Yes I certainly am, can you not clearly see it? Shame, your eyesight is really truly horreeble indeed. Nevair zought about asking me to 'elp pay to try and fix your vision? My family does 'ave a good bit of money."

The question seems far too easy, especially as Harry remembers something he's read in a book somewhere.

"Believe me, one of the first things I sought to try and read up on was trying to fix my eyesight because...  _magic_  everywhere. But nope, I think the fifth exception of Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration squashed my hopes."

If he could properly see her now, Harry reckons Fleur's giving him a rather saddened smile of approval.

"Yes, zat is correct and I am evi— truly sorry about ze fact zat you cannot permanently change something genetic. You did say zat ze bad eyesight comes from your papa?"

"Papa James yes, but so did my Quidditch skills, so no regrets. And, just like you, I've got my eyes from my maman."

"You 'ave said zat before, so beautiful zey are indeed."

"This has gotta be a dream," mutters Harry, who can hardly believe that he's quite possibly fallen in love with such a girl. "Beauty like you is the stuff that kids can only dream of."

Fleur slips on Harry's glasses once more before having him sit up beside her. She then sits back against the wall and has Harry against her, so that her arms can wrap around to hug him from behind. Now his head rests comfortably on her blazer atop her bosom while she interlocks their fingers.

"Speaking of kids, I 'ave always been reading about ze 'Arry Potter back in ze day. Zere is not much information except zat you 'ave survived ze Killing Curse and lost your parents. But I did not expect to meet, let alone feel ze affection for 'im. So I guess eet is most strange for us both now, right?"

"Everything's been even more strange for me since 'Harry — yer a wizard' happened. Some things have been bad, like this."

He releases Fleur's grasp on his left hand, then pulls up his right robe sleeve before loosening the cuff. This is followed by pulling up the shirt sleeve until his entire forearm is exposed, including...

"A Basilisk bite, but it's quite faded now, really. I'm not sure if I've told you about this?"

"Yes you 'ave, a few weeks ago I remember. Ze big evil snake hiding in ze school's Chamber." Fleur runs her right hand over the faded scar before giving a soft laugh. "But ze one on your fore'ead will always be my favourite, well, not zat I am saying eet is a good zing—"

"It's okay, I understand what you mean. I'm not  _that_ insensitive, you know," he replies with a slight laugh of his own. By now, Fleur pulls him up just a little so that he's lying with his head against her left clavicle.

"You do not need to show scars to impress me, 'Arry. And since you love ze feel of my 'air, 'ere you go."

To Harry's pleasant surprise, Fleur lifts the sides of her lengthy hair to let them flow over his shoulders as he lies against her. "If only I had whatever shampoo and conditioner you use..." he says, while caressing her hair yet again.

Meanwhile, Fleur simply looks down fondly as Harry seems to be enjoying himself with running his fingers through her hair. "You are like a leetle baby playing with a lady's 'air now. It is very cute but do not forget zat your next class starts in 'alf an hour."

"Forget that, I could spend all day with you like this."

"Now do not be silly, because my 'Arry must not be failing, 'is tests just for me, no. Okay, get up and let us be off to your last class of zis term." Fleur stands up before helping a sighing Harry to his feet. "Balance, Meester, zat is what you need."

"Balance?"

"Between your work, me, and everything else indeed," she responds kindly, before giving him a kiss on the cheek. Now they begin making their way towards the dungeons where Harry sits the end-of-term Potions test, as promised by Professor Snape.

Thankfully, nobody is actually poisoned as the test proves to be a theoretical one instead. Having been almost threatened to study during his time with Fleur means Harry's quite adequately prepared for today. He can almost hear her throaty accent from when she has read his notes together with him, and so Harry sits answering Snape's test sheet with a smile. So happy is Harry's expression that Snape briefly casts a nonverbal spell when standing beside him to check for anything odd, such as Potion effects or cheat sheets, etc.

After ordering 'quills down', Snape collects the parchments and spends a fair bit of the second session silently marking. The atmosphere in the class turns a curious mix of fear, suspension, and yet excitement as well (since it's end of term anyway.) From the half-annoyed look on Snape's face, Harry reckons that he's done quite well on today's test. A theory confirmed as Snape hands out the parchments in order of marks descending from highest to lowest.

"Perhaps there is a Christmas miracle working around this school, 91% Outstanding grade for... Potter."

Harry grins as he receives his marked sheet with applause from his girls, gawks from the Gryffindors, and lack of eye contact from Snape this time.

"Something happening there that we should all be knowing about, Granger? Because I expected better than 87%. Still, it is an Outstanding nonetheless."

The urge for Harry to smile smugly towards Hermione comes strong, especially as Pansy looks ready to let loose in her face with his parchment. But one glance over his shoulder has Harry seeing Hermione blushing slightly from Snape's comment.

"You don't think," whispers Pansy to Harry. "That Granger could be getting distracted from something... or someone?"

"In the library? Come on, I'm the only boy who's ever gone there to cuddle up with her before. And you know Fleur's taken over my heart now," replies Harry, though Pansy seems unconvinced.

"You absolutely sure?"

Then, Harry remembers what he's seen on the Map with Hermione and Viktor Krum, a slightly ill-feeling now building up in his chest. But he'd rather not make mention of the Map, even to his close Slytherin friends. The earlier conversation about Krum from with Hermione also plays in his head, only worsening the feeling.

"You alright there?" asks Pansy.

"Uh, just nerves from beating the whole class at a Potions test, yeah."

"Alright, if you say so, Potter baby."

Nott and Malfoy receive their parchments next as both sit on mid 80's while Daphne and Tracey have scored just over 80%. Pansy seems to have scraped an O at 80% followed by Zabini, Sally-Anne, then Millicent who have scored high 70's for Exceeds Expectations. Next comes Fay Dunbar, Crabbe, and Goyle, who seemed to have made it in the 60's. Lavender, Parvati, Eloise, and Malone have scored in the region of 50's to low 60's while Snape stands with just a few parchments left.

"Finnigan, Thomas, Weasley, and Longbottom, pathetic performance as usual." Snape hands out the sub-50% parchments with a sneering expression before the bell finally sounds to confirm end of term. No sooner do most of the Slytherins leave than Pansy stands dancing in the dungeon corridor with Harry's parchment held high. She waits for Hermione (and the rest of the Gryffindors) to approach before she adopts a sing-song voice.

"He's first in the Tournament, best on the pitch, and top of Potions! Beeeeeat that, oh no you can't!"

Harry stands to the side with a face-palming gesture as Pansy gleefully dances and taunts the unamused Hermione.

"God, this is embarrassing... but adorable," he mutters to himself, while watching Pansy twirling around and mocking the Gryffindors.

"Granger's in danger 'cos she's probably snogging a stranger. She can't focus and learn... because she's just a naughty bookworm, ooooooh!"

"Shut up, Parkinson!" says Hermione, who briefly looks worriedly over at Harry, though the latter gestures that he hasn't told anyone about her secret date. A wave of relief appears across Hermione's face before she shoves the cackling Pansy aside and stomps down the corridor indignantly.

Next up are the rest of the Gryffindors who find themselves being verbally tormented by Pansy. She sings and insults each one of them until Finnigan, Thomas, and Malone angrily reach for their wands. But they're beaten to it as Harry stands with his one aimed at them.

"Try it, and I'll show you just how I took down the Horntail."

"Come on, lads, let's leave these snakes alone," mutters Ron, leading the group towards the spiralling staircase ahead while Pansy sniggers with laughter.

"That was really fun, thanks for coming first," she says, while rolling up the parchment and placing it in her pink bag. "Oh, did you see the look on Granger's face? Priceless."

"Darn, now I feel like making it up to her for all that..."

"You can go be a softie towards your Muggleborn crush, but I'm not apologizing jack squat to  _her_ , hmph. Now, are you gonna hang out with Fleur or do you wanna come with me to the Owlery? I feel like writing mom a letter wishing her well over the holidays, since the Ball means we're all staying."

"Yeah, sure, might as well give Fleur a little break from me. Alright, let's go and organize that letter, mum's girl."

Sitting together in the Owlery, with Hedwig swooping down every so often on them, Harry and Pansy eventually finish the latter's intended letter for her mother. After tying it to her grey-coloured owl, Pansy sends it off while giggling at Hedwig's expectant look at Harry.

"Your snowy girl wants your attention, Harry. I've got some ink and parchment on me."

"Alright, just wait a little, girl," he says, before receiving a happy peck on his hand by the eager owl. With Pansy at his side, Harry soon writes out a letter to Sirius before grinning wickedly.

"What is it?"

"There's a reason I kept these stashed in my bag, always thought I'd end up using them someday, hahaha." Harry rubs his palms together in an almost comically-villainous manner. He then places his bag atop the recently cleaned desk in the Owlery where he rummages through for something.

"What in hell are you looking for... oh, seriously now? Are you kidding me, boy?" Pansy watches in an amusingly disbelieving manner as Harry withdraws a thin exam pad and ballpoint pen.

 _"Dear Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley..."_  he says, after clicking the pen and writing out a letter wishing the Dursleys well over the Christmas holidays.

"You do realize that you look like a fool going all Muggle here now, huh? Hahaha even the owls are gathering on their perches to look at you, seriously!"

Harry looks up and indeed spots the owls quizzically turning their heads to watch him write in Muggle manner, but he smiles and carries on. "So what if my family doesn't love me? They still deserve a Christmas letter, and I guess I'll slip in 10 Pounds for Big D."

"Doubt they'll even use it at all, because they'd probably think it's cursed or something," admits Pansy thoughtfully, as she places her elbow on the desk and leans to watch Harry write.

"What? I know it's weird, huh? Don't ask how..."

"Yeah it is weird. Left-handed with Muggle pens but right-handed with your wand and quills," she says, while Harry continues to write with the pen in his left hand. "How about I challenge you to dip that quill and write Muggle and Magical at the same time?"

"Shhh, I'm trying to focus."

"Oh, pardon me, Your Majesty. I'm afraid that seeing someone writing Muggle within the walls of Hogwarts is most curio—"

"For God's sake, shhhh!"

"Okay, I'll be quiet now, quiet as a baby. Lalalalalaaaa I'm trying to keep quiet but the owls are still hooting an—"

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

"Shhh, write your letters already, Potter boy."

At some point, the pen seems to be drying out. Then, Pansy swipes it from Harry before shaking and rolling it between her palms, winking at him as she does so.

"That makes me feel awkward," says Harry, before placing his bag on his lap.

"Whoops, might need to... suck it out a bit," she whispers, before placing the tip of the pen in her mouth and getting the ink to its end. "There we go, should spurt out nicely now..."

"Darn dirty mind." Harry grabs the pen before continuing to write.

"Hmm? I dunno what you're thinking but I was fixing up your pen. To make it work better and stuff."

Once both letters are done, Harry ties Sirius' one to Hedwig's leg. "Deliver this now, and I'll bring you the Dursleys' letter later tonight. Wouldn't want them worrying their socks off from owls in the daylight," says Harry.

"You sure you'd like to mail the Muggles on a Friday night? Aren't they all piss drunk by then?"

"Better than Sunday," says Harry, before giving a surprisingly accurate impression of Uncle Vernon at the food table. "'No post on Sundays... no damn letters today...'"

Laughing and banging her fists on the desk, Pansy wipes her eyes before replying. "Oh I remember you telling me that story, hilarious indeed!"

"Ah, the bygone days of getting birthday presents which include a coat hanger, my uncle's old socks, et cetera. And living in a cupboard so small that one fart sticks around far too long..."

Pansy's shrieking laugh sends all the owls scattering about as she shakes her head at Harry. "How the hell do you manage to think up something like that?"

"..well at least it made some rather nice air freshener in the otherwise stink cupboard."

"That's it, you done writing? Let's go have a walk outside to clear your brains. Maybe you inhaled one too many farts in your youth."

"But I am still young, you know."

"Certainly, and a cutiepie as well..."

"Pansy, don't—ugh." Harry sighs as she rubs his cheeks yet again. The rest of the day is soon spent in the company of the Slytherin girls, before Harry heads back up to the Owlery, after dinner, to send his second letter.

Saturday morning sees Harry up and early to track down Ginny on the fourth floor. Before he decides to leave the dungeons, Harry glances over the Defence Against the Dark Arts office where the dots of _Alastor Moody_ and _Bartemius Crouch_ are once again seen. He reckons that Mr. Crouch seems certainly adamant on getting Moody's advice on securing the Tournament, or whatever else they're discussing again. However, Harry soon makes his way up to the fourth floor corridor to wish Ginny luck for her final match of this school year

"Shhhh, Harry, you're not supposed to know about that."

"Oh, pardon me, little Miss Weasley."

She darts her eyes up and down while smiling at Harry. "Word of advice, tell your close friends to never eat anything lying about nor accept anything from any Gryffindor. Fred and George are up to their usual fun, and this time it's those Canary Creams. Makes one turn into a canary if you eat whatever is spiked. Although I think you'd make a cute little black-feathered canary, with that hair."

"Oh ha-ha, and you'd probably look like Fawkes the Phoenix, with  _that_  hair, Ginny."

"Aww, so sweet of you to say, thank you. Want me to cry on you too, hmm?" She folds her arms and glances teasingly at the grinning Harry. "Need to vent some sadness and grief before the biggest match of your life?"

"I've been doing my homework and stuff on him, don't underestimate me. Now I hope you'll understand if I also wish Cedric Diggory good luck against you?"

"He beat me last year but _I've_ been doing my homework and stuff on him. So you can go and wish the enemy good luck but even that won't be enough today," says Ginny haughtily. "Let's make a deal, because I'd like to know that you're cheering for me again."

"What deal?" asks Harry.

"If I win, then I'll tell you another secret about the Gryffindor vs Slytherin match. Angelina's got another plan in place as well. So, are you gonna be cheering for me before I win, Harry Potter?"

"In that case, fine. I'll cheer for little Miss Weasley instead."

"That's what I like to hear, now lemme go get breakfast before I kick Diggory's arse."

Harry can't help but smile upon seeing the fiery attitude of Ginny as she briskly walks towards the grand staircase. Meanwhile, he pulls out the Map and heads to wish Cedric a good game as well before having breakfast with the rest of the school.

Soon, everyone makes their way to the Quidditch stadium for a rather chilly match which starts with both teams being on form today. Saves, passes, and goals begin to stack up on both ends of the pitch as Angelina captains her team against the might of Cedric's Hufflepuff. The Gryffindors sport Cleansweep Sevens (with Ginny being on a Nimbus 2000) while Hufflepuff flies all Nimbus 1700's again for a thrilling match indeed.

 


	28. Nearing Christmas

Over an hour has passed by in the match as Gryffindor finds themselves on 40 points to Hufflepuff's 80, with the stadium in quite a bit of a buzz now. Yet again, Ludo Bagman takes to the megaphone, leaving Lee Jordan to cheer with the rest of his Housemates in their stands.

"And it looks like the Hogwarts Champion finds herself, and her team, being outwitted by Cedric Diggory's side. Angelina Johnson hasn't had the easiest of starts here today as Hufflepuff has taken advantage of some neat passing and flying I daresay! Both sides begun in style and banged in those goals, but as the Lions briefly lost focus so did the Badgers pounce."

Standing front and centre in the Slytherins stands, Harry and Fleur eagerly watch the action unfold before them. Dozens upon dozens of students now cheer (or simply observe the game) from the left, right or behind Harry, but it hardly bothers him. What matters here, even through all the noise and today's icy damp wind, is the presence of one happy Fleur.

As the match continues to play out before them, Harry turns to almost shout at her through the rising wind. "You alright there? Not getting cold now, are you?"

She raises her voice to respond, which sounds somewhat intimidating (and yet attractive) to Harry upon replying. "I zink I 'ave gotten somewhat used to zis cold weather nowadays. Zank you for ze scarf but are you not getting cold?"

He shakes his head in return before swiftly turning as Bagman announces a Hufflepuff goal, courtesy of Heidi Macavoy.

"...through the centre hoop past McLaggen, ease up there, lad! That puts the score at NINETY-FOURTY in favour of Hufflepuff still."

The Quaffle seems to be heavily contested in the middle of the pitch, with two Gryffindor Chasers battling against three Hufflepuffs. Katie Bell skirts along the right flank before she receives the Quaffle to begin Gryffindor's assault on goal.

Meanwhile, as the action continues before them, Harry soon finds himself tapped on the shoulder by a somewhat excited Fleur.

"Would you like to 'ave a bit of fun? I was zinking zat we should dance together 'ere. Dancing comes easy for me, being part-Veela, but I see you enjoy it too somewhat."

"Uhm, it's a bit too loud and rowdy for some waltzing around here, you know."

Fleur rolls her eyes before sniggering at him. "Oh, 'Arry, so adorably seemple at times. No, man, we can just 'let loose' as zey say and make it fun. I will start and you may follow, yes?"

"You bet your pretty arse I would! Let's go."

Minutes later, Hufflepuff's Herbert Fleet stops Alicia Spinnet's shot on goal before starting his counterattack. After an impressive play of passes, Chasers Preece and Macavoy soon pass to Applebee, who challenges McLaggen on the Gryffindor end.

Bagman now remains on point with his commentary. "He dives... oh and he misses! That's Hufflepuff on one hundred courtesy of Tamsin Applebee, wonderful attempt through the right hoop! Sounds like the Slytherin stands are getting louder... oh, good lord, look at that! It seems we've got two Champions having a ball of a time out here. Harry Potter and Fleur Delacour are shaking it loose in the front row of their stands, well, have at it then!"

With the students around them stepping back to watch in amusement, Harry and Fleur certainly seem to be enjoying themselves. The former tries his best to fall in sync with Fleur as she steps to the left, steps to the right, puts her arms up and then shakes her hips.

"Wait, what?" asks Harry, before throwing his arms up and just going with the flow. "Laugh all you want, folks, I don't care!"

"Yes, zat is ze way, my leetle 'Arry! Shake zat body and follow me. Eet does not matter if you cannot move like zis." The look on Fleur's face shows sheer joy as she laughs and leads the way with moves that has many a male gawking at her. Even Harry finds himself amazed by the ease at which she shakes and rolls her hips.

"Man, how do you do that?" he asks, before she side-step dances her way over to him. Then, she stands with her arms out while shaking her hips against Harry's side. "There are kids watching, you know."

"Let zem watch, oh, I am just joking." Fleur steps away before grabbing Harry's hands. "Together, shall we?"

Nevermind the fact that both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff have scored in the past few minutes to make it 110-50, Harry continues dancing it up with his date. Whistles and cheers come from those (about three quarters of Slytherin) who support Harry in the Tournament. The remaining minority keeps to the far side of the stands while mocking Harry and his choice of partner. Soon, the pair of Champions mirror each other's spins, turns, and shakes as they move across the front row.

"...120 for Hufflepuff now as Preece SCORES! Gryffindor still on 50, wait a minute... The chase for the Snitch is ON!"

But neither Harry or Fleur even cares as they face each other while holding their hands up high. Although he continues copying whatever Fleur's doing, Harry only recognises a few dance moves. Together they let loose on the running man, side-kicks, and some hopping dance.

"Now, are you ready to follow zis new dance of ours? Alyssa does it so well but I am sure zat I am better, most of us 'ave practiced it." Fleur grabs Harry's hands before she begins her demonstration. "Take notice because I would like for us to do zis at ze Yule Ball too."

"Hand here, then there, aha, okay, sure..." Harry tries his best to keep track of Fleur showing him what turns out to be the Macarena. "Let's go."

"Dance, my leetle 'Arry, dance!" yells Fleur, as the pair now spend the next few minutes doing their dance before the applauding crowd behind them. Ignoring the cold as well the commentary, it's only when Bagman practically yells out the match's end that Harry and Fleur pay attention.

"Splendid match, splendid! Some good saves from both Keepers today. Although Hufflepuff's got more goals in, they do finish on 130 points to Gryffindor's 200! Narrow bit of outmanoeuvring at the end as Ginny Weasley snatches the Golden Snitch with some fine flying. Well done, lass, and let's have a round of applause for Cedric Diggory as well. The Hufflepuff Captain has really taken Champion Angelina's side to task here! Alright, can we have our updated standings cast in the air now?"

Fiery words soon appear in the air for all to see:

_Gryffindor 440_

_Slytherin 340_

_Ravenclaw 210_

_Hufflepuff 200_

"Next up, we'll have Hufflepuff against Ravenclaw on the 9th of January, a chance for either team to climb that table. Then we'll end off with Gryffindor against Slytherin on January the 30th. Isn't this exciting, huh? You know it is! As it stands right now there's still a slight chance for the bottom teams to claim the coveted Quidditch Cup. But let's wait and see if an upset can happen for our top two competitors. Then, it's back to the prestigious Triwizard Tournament. Don't forget about February the 24th... as that's the Second Task. To all you lovely ladies and gents... this is Ludo Bagman signing off and wishing you a happy Christmas holidays!"

Tremendously loud applause come from each of the stands in response to a fine match indeed. With Fleur at his side, Harry decides to head for the stadium's exit and await Cedric's departure. It therefore comes as a slight surprise to see the latter walking hand-in-hand with his upcoming rival. Both now approach Harry (while Fleur stands a slight distance back) once they've exited the stadium.

"That was a good game, Cedric, too bad about the ending though," says Harry, though Chang eyes him suspiciously.

"Have I missed something or is he trying to be nice for a change?"

"Just let bygones be bygones, Cho," says Cedric. "Can't keep holding on to old grudges, I guess. Oh, and thanks, Harry."

"I'm surprised at how you took down those Gryffindor Chasers today. They're usually quite good in the air, especially with Fred and George being the best beaters in the school right now," says Harry.

"Yeah well I guess Angelina's preoccupied with something, probably the Tournament. To tell you the truth, she's been carrying that egg around more often lately, or so I've noticed," says Cedric.

"Really?" Harry turns to beckon Fleur over. "Hey, come hear what Cedric has to say."

Meanwhile, Chang seems to be trying to forgive Harry for last year's dirty tactics which cost her their match. "Oh well, I suppose we were the ones to finally break Slytherin's streak after all."

"What does 'e 'ave to tell us about ze Tournament if 'e is not even in it?" asks Fleur, while standing beside Harry.

"Be nice, Fleur, let's not be disrespectful towards someone who's nearly put Johnson in her place today," says Harry firmly.

"Why do you dislike her so much then?" asks Cho, who folds her arms and glances quizzically at him. "Is it because her name came out fair and square?"

"You don't honestly believe that Harry cheated his way in, right?" asks Cedric. "No way could a fourth-year break whatever enchantments were on and around the Goblet. And no way would any older student put someone else's name in if they could chance their own. But I'm not sure about that Alyssa girl though, she is technically old enough to compete. I've got no idea what happened there..."

"Neither do any of us standing 'ere as well!" replies Fleur quite defensively. "She 'as not cheated, eef zat is what you are zinking, Meester Deegery."

"Uh, can we talk about the egg already?" asks Harry.

"Okay, sure. It's not much to go on but I think I saw her trying to bury it in the ground before opening it up. Still nothing but horrible screaming though. So it looks like whatever the clue is might take some creativity to figure out. Then I caught a glimpse of Viktor Krum piling snow and sitting on his, though without much result. Bottom line is that the others are getting creative now, and perhaps so should you."

"Good point," admits Harry. "I suppose I haven't thought about it that way. What a pity that it had to be a Gryffindor like Johnson in this Tournament instead of you, Cedric."

"That's life, just gotta move on and get through this year. N.E.W.T. level classes are tough, just so you know."

Cho turns to look from Cedric to Harry before smiling. "He's really stressed out because he wants to become an Auror someday. Pretty cool, hmm? His dad's really keen on the idea too and, quite frankly, so am I."

"What about you, Harry?" asks Cedric. "I can see many reasons why you'd make it in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and that's besides taking down a Horntail."

"Yeah, why not consider that career path by the end of next year when you're due for your O.W.L.s?" asks Cho. "A lot of people say they want to be an Auror someday but it's far easier said than done. However, I'd reckon you and Cedric have what it takes. Might even be partners or share an office, perhaps?"

"I'll give it some thought but it's still too early to decide."

"Take your time then, no rush." Cedric greets Harry and Fleur as he leaves with Cho at his side, who's now less hostile towards Harry than before.

"We must be getting desperate if we're taking advice on the clues from someone who's not even in the Tournament," says Harry, whose expression soon drops a fair bit.

"Take every opportunity we can get... what is wrong, 'Arry? Why are you looking a leetle sad now? Was our dancing not vairy nice earlier?" Fleur lifts her hand to cup his rather chilly cheek, as they stand alone out here.

"Everyone's moving ahead with their future plans and stuff, and here I am wondering about my life. Why does everything abnormal always happen to me? Cedric's worries are purely academic, while all my school years have been filled with danger. What the hell's still in store for me this year, I wonder?"

"Oh do not be so scared, young man." Fleur now cups both hands on Harry's cheeks before smiling. "You are seemply too precious to lose, so I will keep you safe,  _mon chéri_."

"Again looking at me like I'm food. First 'fried chicken' and now something to do with a cherry? Uh, okay then, cool."

Fleur laughs, though a soft and tender one this time as she looks him in the eye. "Actually, zat is a good one. You are like a cherry: soft and sweet, ze final ingredient on ze cake."

"I'm getting a little bit lost in your symbolism here. Too many food-related things coming out your mouth... pretty mouth, with lovely lips."

"Ze cake is sweet and delicious but I am speaking feeguratively. You see, I 'ave 'ad my fun with a number of boys over ze years, but you are something new."

"Great, guess I'm just another statistic on the sheet. Use and abuse me before dumping my arse, eh? Wham, bam, thank you ma'am... or sir, in my case."

"Eef zat is 'ow you zink of it zen fine, maybe I will tell you what  _mon chéri_ means one day. Although by ze looks of zings, I zink I might be changing it to  _mon amour_  at some point... maybe."

"Potter!"

Harry almost jumps in surprise as a loud voice ends his little talk with Fleur. After spinning around, he spots Moody briskly limping towards them, his wooden foot making shallow holes in the grass as he walks.

"Are you barking mad to be out here like this in the Tournament where we don't know how you got in? Go talk with your lass somewhere  _inside_  the castle rather. Anyone can be anywhere around this big stadium with some trap in hand ready to do who knows what. Get inside the castle NOW!"

"Sir, yes, sir." Harry hurries beside a most amused Fleur as they make their way up the slopes and eventually towards the entrance hall, where he wipes his forehead. "Whew, Moody's quite paranoid at times I must say."

"Aww, 'e is just trying to keep zis pretty leetle Champion safe. Zere must be bad people out zere 'oo would seek to bring 'arm to you, yes?"

Once again, their conversation is interrupted by someone else as footsteps approach from the marble staircase.

"Oh, there's no doubt that Harry's basically got a target on his head in this Tournament," says Alyssa, while Pansy seems to be out and about with the girls. "So do keep yourself safe until your staff can figure out what's going on here. You're not as old and N.E.W.T. level as the rest of us are, regardless of taking down a dragon."

"Weren't you hanging out with Pansy just now?" asks Harry.

"Yeah, well I've decided to give her some space for today. After all, I will be spending most of the Yule Ball with her. Anyway, I'm gonna go get that stupid egg quickly, been trying to figure this damn thing out all month long already. Come and see just how useless it is trying to figure anything out about it."

"We're not supposed to be helping each other on the tasks," says Harry, while Fleur nods. "The first task was easy to plan together but that screaming egg's gonna attract attention."

But Alyssa shrugs before smiling. "We're not supposed to be  _seen_  helping each other on the tasks. I heard you've got a Cloak so bring it with and I'll meet you two in the paved courtyard... The Quad or whatever else you guys call it."

The Champion trio now head their separate ways as Alyssa goes to the Beauxbatons carriage, Fleur to a hidden spot in the cloister surrounding the viaduct courtyard, and Harry hurrying towards his common room. After making his way through giggles and whispers about this morning's dancing, he slips into the fourth-year girls' dormitory.

Tracey seems to be sitting on her bed while doing some of the hefty holiday assignments as she spots Harry slipping on his Invisibility Cloak.

"Care to get me out the common room, please?"

"Ugh, fine, lost my train of thought on that stupid goblin rebellion anyway..." She soon casually strolls towards the common room and opens its door before waiting a good few minutes in the corridor outside. Harry, meanwhile, makes his way to the viaduct courtyard where he joins up with Fleur.

"I used to 'ave a Cloak when I was younger but eet only lasted over a year. So I burned it and did not bother with anuzzer one."

"Why'd you need a Cloak?" asks Harry, while they walk around the terrace from the viaduct courtyard to reach the paved one.

"Because I sometimes got irritated when ze older boys and men were looking at leetle me like zat."

"Uh, okay, forget that I just asked that."

They soon step into the courtyard before patting Alyssa on the thigh. With a mischievous grin, she deliberately opens the egg causing the surrounding handful of students to cover their ears and complain.

"Don't like it? Then go play Gobstones somewhere else," she says, chasing off the group.

Harry suddenly gasps from beneath the cloak. "Oh darn, Pansy and I totally forgot to pull the egg prank we've been wanting to. Guess we're gonna have to leave it for start of new term..."

"Your 'ead looks like ze egg."

"No it doesn't!"

"I am just joking with you, 'Arry."

The invisible Harry and Fleur watch, in bemusement, as Alyssa places her egg on the ground before kicking it around.

"Give me the f—"

"She's upset," laughs Harry.

"I do not blame 'er."

"—ing clue already!" Alyssa seems to be kicking it repeatedly against a nearby wall, before she gives it a dropkick across the courtyard. Unfortunately, opening it later only elicits the same horrible screaming from before. "Bloody  _useless_."

With nobody around to see, Harry approaches Alyssa before calming her down. "You're just gonna end up breaking this thing like that."

"So keecking eet does not work, and neither does anything else we 'ave tried. I say we leave it until—"

Alyssa remains upset, and she swears quite a bit before speaking. "To hell with this Tournament. They let you risk your arse against a dragon... find an egg... then tell you that said egg contains the next clue. Well, all the friggin egg does is screech worse than a Banshee! That's it, I'm done with this, too much effort for me."

"What in hell are you doing now?" asks Harry.

"You guys can figure this one out alone because I'm gonna ditch the egg. Cryptic is one thing but a screaming egg means absolutely nothing. Know any good spots to throw this thing away?" asks Alyssa.

"Don't throw it away, now you're just going mental. Calm down, woman."

But Fleur softly sniggers behind him. "Let 'er throw it away, zen she will 'ave to come begging for me to solve ze clue. I will zen 'ave leverage over 'er if we do feegure it out."

"I don't want to see this piece of golden rubbish ever again." Alyssa now angrily walks across the castle grounds, with Harry and Fleur following beneath the Cloak. "Got better things to do with my life than get deaf over an egg, hmph!"

"Zis is most funny, I zink she 'as finally gone mad," whispers Fleur, as Alyssa approaches the Forbidden Forest to hurl the egg forward. Then, Harry decides to slip out the Cloak before grabbing the egg from her.

"Give me that egg, Harry..." she says, scowling as her cold blue eyes glare at him.

"No, not until you calm the heck down. I know this is all frustrating but let's not do anything stupid, okay?"

Harry soon finds himself lunged at by Alyssa who tries to snatch it back, causing him to drop low and hurriedly back off. With Fleur laughing from beneath the Cloak, and Alyssa basically chasing him, all he can do is flee to safety before any spells are thrown his way.

"Run, my leetle Quidditch man," says a laughing Fleur, who sounds eerily disembodied while under the Cloak. "Oh no, 'Arry, be careful!"

"Give me that egg before you hurt yourself out here," warns Alyssa, while slowly trying to approach Harry. But the latter barely knows where he's just ran.

"If I give you this egg then you'll make a terrible mistake by ditching it in the forest. One step closer and I'll be forced to open this loud thing."

"Now you're the one being an idiot, come here before you fall—" Alyssa steps forward to reach out at Harry, but the latter now pulls open the egg causing both of them to double back and cover their ears. He spots Alyssa widening her eyes as Harry ends up tripping backwards over a few pebbles.

Next thing he feels is a rush of freezing cold as he sinks beneath the waters of the Black Lake. With the egg shut and sinking beside him, Harry tries to swim upwards but finds his heavy clothes dragging him down. Having not expected the plunge means he's seconds away from needing to take a breath, which could flood his lungs with water.

As his vision blurs, Harry spots both Champions diving (in their underwear) to retrieve both him and the closed egg. He's soon laid out on his back before Fleur pushes down his chest, before he swiftly speaks. "I'm fine, no need for that, darn f-freezing cold. Oh wow, you're so sexy all drenched in those underw—OW!"

She smacks him hard before stripping off his hoodie and jumper. Then, she sits on his chest to angrily look down at him. "Zat was a truly STUPID zing for you to do, Meester! I 'ope you did not 'ave ze Map on you."

"What Map?" asks Alyssa, before Fleur shuts her up with some rather vulgar swearing.

"I don't," replies Harry, who's now shivering while lying on frosted pebbles beside the nearly frozen lake. He then looks up and gawks at how even the weak winter sun seems to glow on Fleur's skin. Her soaked hair flows magnificently over her shoulders as she folds her arms to glare at him.

"You could 'ave panicked and drowned out zere, nevermind zat you 'ave a wand! 'Ow can I look forward to ze Yule Ball eef my date almost drowned like a kitten 'oo cannot swim in ze water?"

As foolish as Harry might feel now, he can't help but stare at Fleur and reckon that near-death is worth seeing her in underwear. "I can swim, just got caught off-guard."

"Are you sueecidal? Do you want to die?" she asks scathingly, like a mother would admonish a naughty child.

"I really didn't know I was that close to the edge of the lake. Your arse and thighs feel so good on my chest though... nice, warm, and quite firm," he replies with a slight laugh as Fleur continues to sit imposingly on his chest. "Care to move your undies to the side?"

"Maybe I should 'ave left you under ze water... but zen I will surely miss zis silly leetle boy after all."

As Fleur climbs off Harry's chest, the latter looks left to admire Alyssa in her underwear. But she soon blurts out an apology for her earlier bit of foolishness, which has Fleur scolding at her too.

"Okay, I'm really sorry about all that. I suppose we could dry each other off now?" Alyssa picks up her wand before both she and Fleur cast charms on one another before getting dressed once more.

"What about me? I'm freezing over here."

"Take off zat trousers, socks and shoes and stand in your underwear. We 'ave already seen you like zat after you lost ze Quidditch match anyway."

Harry stands up and strips down (though keeping his boxer shorts on) as the girls dry off the rest of his clothes. Just as he's about to pass a snide remark, Harry yelps as Fleur pulls on his shorts to blast it with air. Nothing stops her from grinning while looking right down before turning a shade of red.

"Hey—"

"Zat is what you get for making me and Alyssa jump in zis ice cold lake! Ooooo' but maybe I cannot call you so 'leetle' anymore, 'Arry. We would not want zis to freeze and fall off now, 'mm?" She grins while warming beneath his boxer shorts. "Actually, I will still call you my leetle 'Arry... even if you are 'more' zan I expected down zere."

Ignoring Fleur's remarks, Harry swiftly gets dressed once his clothes are dried. Alyssa, meanwhile, grabs hold of her egg before deciding to return to the carriage for some rest.

"Um, where's my Invisibility Cloak?"

"Over zere." Fleur retrieves it from beneath a rock before they return to the castle. The topic of the golden egg now dropped indefinitely as the weekend carries on to a week without classes. But Harry hardly gets the chance to kick back and play games now. Pansy and the rest insist on finishing at least half of their assignments throughout the week, preferably before Christmas.

"So, still feeling like all zis food is too 'eavy?" asks Harry, while sitting beside Fleur at the dinner table on Wednesday (the 23rd) evening. She looks at him, smiles, and then tilts her nose in the air.

"Very certainly yes, it is all too 'eavy for me. Zis stew is so full of zings zat I am already full. Do finish it for me,  _mon chéri_."

Fleur's recent use of these words brings many a giggle from the surrounding girls, who've already been told by Alyssa what they mean.

"Yes, finish it for your mistress, Harry boy," says Daphne, who eyes the couple quite intriguingly.

By dinner's end, Fleur walks ahead of the line of students exiting the Great Hall. Her open criticism of even Hogwarts' finer meals elicits many foul looks from various students.

"Eef zey keep feeding us all zis zen we will all be getting so fat!" snaps Fleur, while walking beside Harry to the centre of the entrance hall. Some girls can be heard stating that she's full of herself, though neither Harry nor Fleur even bother paying attention.

Thursday morning sees Harry rubbing his hands together with glee while sitting on his bed near Daphne's. The gesture drawing many a confused (and amused) look from his girls.

"And now, what's happening?" asks Pansy almost worriedly.

"The Ball's tomorrow so you know what that means, right? More hair insecurities mean more money for me!" he declares triumphantly with a fist-pump. "My vault still gets a tiny bit of royalties from Grandpa Fleamont's Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. Even if it's just a 6% share of each one sold, that's still easy coin. I'll probably stop earning from grandpa's invention around so 2050-ish, 'cos he died in 1979."

Pansy now climbs atop Harry's bed before rubbing his shoulders. "But we're getting some for free, right? We're your best pals in the whole world..."

"Nope, sorry, it's just business."

"You conniving little sh—"

Harry laughs before standing up and running his fingers through Pansy's hair. "You don't seem to need it that much compared to me."

"Well that's because I don't have a pineapple on my head," she responds with a giggle and wink.

"It's not that bad..." Harry runs his hands to feel around his unruly hair. "Is it?"

"Lemme feel." Pansy reaches to grab and ruffle his hair as he kneels before the bed. "Oooh it's so messy."

"Right, time to go get them customers. I'm thinking Hermione, shame that second years aren't coming otherwise there would've been that Romilda Vane kid, who else? Lavender Brown..."

"You don't need to approach everyone. Just one person in each House will encourage his or her friends to use the same product," says Sally-Anne. "That's how the grapevine works."

After breakfast, Harry uses his Map (covertly, of course) to try and track down someone from each House to suggest buying Sleekeazy's for the Ball. But with Hermione forever in a corner of the library with Krum, this leaves him needing to approach another Gryffindor. Then, around noon, he stumbles across Lavender Brown walking by herself down the third floor corridor.

"Hey, Lavender!" he calls, causing her to swiftly turn around most confusedly. Whether from  _this_  Slytherin actually speaking to her, or doing so on first-name basis, she certainly seems suspicious.

"What do you want, Potter? Why are you speaking to me?"

"I know you're going to the Ball with Cormac McLaggen. Have you considered styling your hair for the occasion, not that I'm saying there's anything wrong with it... just curious?"

"How do you know all that?" She eyes him suspiciously before continuing to speak. "Every girl wants to do their own hair for tomorrow, I'd have thought you of all people would know that."

"You calling me a girl?"

"You know what I mean: You've got that little girl-gang thing of yours going."

"Oh, right, haha misunderstanding. Well do spread the word that Sleekeazy's Hair Potion works quite well, except for redheads at times."

She practically laughs at him, though not as hostile as she can be on other occasions. "Seriously? Didn't I read that a Potter invented that?"

"Yeah." Harry gives a thumbs up and a wink. "You know you wanna use it."

"Trying to make some money, eh? Last time I've heard, you're already quite rich, Mister Firebolt."

"Oh come on, don't be like that. Every tub you buy goes towards supporting a famous orphan who doesn't have parents to work for him."

"Every orphan doesn't have parents, duh. Wow, I didn't know the 91% Potions master could be so thick at times," replies a giggling Lavender. "Fine, we'll go and buy your family's patented product. Though I suspect that Hermione might need it the most in our dorm."

"Thanks a bunch!" Harry hurries off down the corridor before slipping into an empty classroom to check the Map. He then practically races down the staircase to where he'd seen Padma Patil on the first floor, though he's soon stopped.

"Why are you running around here, Potter?" asks Professor Snape, who seems to have been inspecting a suit of armour for decoration.

"Just trying to make some money, sir."

"Illicit substances are strictly prohibited."

"I'm no drug-runner, sir! Perhaps you might be interested in mail-ordering some Sleekeazy's Hair Potion for tomorrow, sir?"

The look on Snape's face speaks volumes before he replies, "I would rather ingest a lethal dose of poison than buy  _that_  product!"

"I'll keep a bezoar on hand then, uh, I mean sorry for asking, sir." Harry excuses himself before hurrying out of Snape's sight down the corridor. Eventually, he comes across Padma walking along the stone bridge, and she spots him first.

"Oh look it's the Potions Master himself."

"Hi, Miss Patil, I was on my way to find someone who'd benefit from Sleekeazy's Hair Potion but just thought I'd ask if you know anyone?"

"Yes I do... and he's standing right in front of me."

There can never be enough sarcasm in Harry's life, in his opinion. But he takes it in stride before replying. "Oh okay, not like I have hair as neat and tidy as yours, lucky you."

"Peddling your family wares? Fine, I'll spread the word. But I want a copy of how detailed you wrote those Potions answers last week, alright? Better change the words so Professor Snape doesn't get suspicious."

"Yeah, sure." Harry shakes Padma's hand while inwardly laughing at the typically Ravenclaw deal. "You help me and vice versa, don't forget that it doesn't always work on redheads, in case you come across any. Hope you have a good Ball!"

Next up comes Slytherin, and Harry immediately heads for the Great Hall where a sixth year Prefect, Yasmin, sits. With the holidays in full swing, Harry notes the taller girl wearing casual blue robes with a woollen scarf around her neck.

"Don't worry, your girl army has already told us all about Sleekeazy's. Even some of the guys are opting to buy it," she says, once Harry tries to make his request.

"Well, that makes my life a bit easier, yeah. Just remember that redheads get 'unique' results as stated on the package."

Finally, Harry gets Cedric Diggory to convince the non-redhaired Hufflepuffs to consider buying Sleekeazy's. With basically everything set, and over half his assignments for the holidays complete, Harry decides to sit back and enjoy the rest of the day. For tomorrow brings Christmas and the much-anticipated Yule Ball event.

 


	29. The Yule Ball

_Christmas Day, 1994._

Harry awakes with a yelp as something seems to be looking down at him in the darkness. Whatever it is certainly seems helpful, as Harry's glasses are slipped on before he spots none other than Dobby the House Elf. From having been freed back in 1993, he's found himself willingly obeying Harry's orders. These include somewhat of a truce with the Malfoy parents as Dobby still assists them in their manor, while being paid by Harry himself.

Soon, Pansy and the girls wake up as Christmas morning is spent opening a variety of presents in the room. To Dobby's tearful delight, he receives woollen socks, a Galleon, and trousers, by Harry, while various other items come from the girls before Dobby returns to the manor.

Everyone in the room seems to have gotten one another a gift, while receiving their own from outside the school as well. Most surprising to Harry is a (admittedly small, but better than nothing) packet of sweets from the Dursleys, which Dudley could probably eat in a few seconds anyway.

With basically every first, second, and third year having gone home for the holidays, this leaves the common room at just over half capacity. Therefore, as Harry exits the fourth-year girls' dormitory, he passes by many girls fussing over tonight.

"Hope my dress looks good enough."

"Well I hope my partner looks good enough tonight."

"Food and dance better be good enough to warrant all these preparations."

"Wonder if Professor Snape's gonna dance? Nah, I highly doubt it."

Upon exiting the tunnels, Harry steps into the general common room area where some of the older boys stand and sit about. None appears to have changed into their formal wear just yet as it's still morning. Most of them appears to be friendly faces such as the Slytherin Quidditch Team (with Malfoy still inside the dormitory), including past members.

Adrian Pucey comes up to greet Harry before they discuss the possibility of him taking Flint's spot next year. Graham Montague also adds his bit about hopefully returning to the team next year as the morning moves on. Then, Marcus Flint calls Harry while looking rather excited.

"Guess what? So I've been thinking of catching Gryffindor totally off-guard by making some changes. So our squad looks to be your secret weapon Keeper, Derrick, Bole, you as Seeker. Then I'll play with Warrington... and I guess my final match might as well include a girl."

"Lemme guess, you're finally putting Yasmin on the team?" asks Harry.

"Okay, yeah she's a decent enough Chaser."

Harry recalls Millicent mentioning that she's going to the Ball with Flint, and would try and convince him to change his ways. Well, putting Yasmin Shafiq on the team certainly seems to signal some sort of improvement, in Harry's opinion.

"Good on you then, she's a fine Chaser and will certainly surprise everybody on match day," says Harry confidently. After chatting around to whoever else happens to be a friendly face here, he soon exits the dungeons to spend the rest of the morning wandering about. Harry comes across Professor Moody at some point as well, before being warned to caution himself tonight.

"A drunk target's an easy target."

"Acknowledged, sir."

Before lunch, Harry also spots Ginny on her way to the entrance hall, though she gasps before running to his side. "Oh my gosh, I totally forgot about my end of the deal!"

"Good morning, and Happy Christmas, Ginny."

"Oh, morning to you too and Happy Christmas," she replies with a smile. "Did you get mum's gift? Pretty awesome, right?"

He certainly agrees that a knitted emerald-and-silver jumper with a Horntail pattern on its front seems excellent indeed. However, Ginny then leans to whisper in his ear:

"When I told you Angelina's got another plan I wasn't kidding. It's not just Krum coming onto the team but Fred and George are stepping down for the match too. I could hardly believe my ears when Angelina brought in those two Durmstrang Beaters. Don't remember their first names but one was this tall blonde guy called Stangeland. The other's average height but with a bigger build, his surname's... uh, oh yes, Zaytsev."

"Great, is she turning the whole team into Durmstrang? So, one's Norwegian and the other's probably a Russian, hmm."

"Be careful! I've seen them when we all practiced together in secret, and they're quite hardcore. Krum obviously knows them far better than Fred and George so those three Durmstrangs are gonna work well together." Ginny beams with a grin as Harry pulls her into a tight hug.

"You are a fine lifesaver, you know that?"

"I shall await your dance at the Ball, oh good sir," she replies cheerfully.

"Yes, my mistress."

"Hey!"

"Just kidding." Harry laughs before turning around and making his way to the owlery. Here, he retrieves a parcel containing more than a few Sleekeazy's Hair Potions which he soon carries all the way to the grounds. Along the way, he passes by various Gryffindors having a snowball fight which he would've joined. But then the thought of their team trying to humiliate him in January immediately puts him off.

"Hey, why don't you come join the fun?" asks Fred, before Harry politely declines and continues on his way.

"Fun my arse, I've got far more important things to do," he mutters, once out of earshot from the playful group of students. Minutes later, Harry knocks on Hagrid's door while eagerly carrying his parcel in hand.

"Happy Christmas, Harry, but wha' are yeh doing here now?" Hagrid appears to be dressed in his hairy brown suit with a yellow-and-orange tie. Though Harry thinks these clothes to be horrible, he decides against making mention of it since they're the best that Hagrid has. It also doesn't help that clothes this size would be difficult to readily come across.

However, there is one way that Harry feels he can help his sizable friend out here, and so he's jumped at the opportunity to do just that.

"Is that axle grease on your hair, Hagrid? Trying to impress someone, right?"

"Uh, maybe, do yeh think it looks alrigh'? I mean I've been tryin' ter get it a bit neater fer..."

"Madame Maxime."

"How'd yeh know?"

"Come on, I practically live with girls nowadays and can spot a crush pretty easily, usually, well... sometimes."

"Yer growin' up really fast, yeh know? Feels like yesterday tha' I took yeh through Diagon Alley."

"Exactly!" Harry beams with a warm smile, in a manner quite childish even for him. "That's why I bought these Hair Potions. So how about you take a seat and I'll neaten it all up?"

"Yeh'd do tha' fer me?" Hagrid's expression turns to an almost tearful smile.

"Why wouldn't I? Take a seat." Harry sees Hagrid, as big as he is, now sitting down rather excitedly in his chair before the former opens up the parcel beside them.

"I was trying ter get 'em like some people wear their ponytails. Bu' couldn't figure out fer the life of me how ter get it righ'."

After lathering his hands with Sleekeazy's, Harry laughs. "I think we'd better stick to your usual style but just neater, yeah. No need to go overboard too much."

Although Hagrid's hair be wild, untamed, and highly frizzy, Harry gets on with the task of neatening it. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven... the number of emptied Sleekeazy's containers piles up as Hagrid's hair becomes quite neater from Harry's styling.

"Wow, it's kinda better than my hair now."

"Lemme see!"

Hagrid almost runs the laughing Harry aside as he makes his way to the water barrel outside the cabin's window. While glancing down at his reflection, Hagrid's expression of joy makes Harry humorously wonder which of them is the adult here now. The latter thoroughly cleans his hands before packing the emptied containers into the parcel as Hagrid steps inside.

"So, is it alright then?"

"It's brilliant! Is ev'rythin' else alrigh'?"

Sighing and laughing simultaneously, Harry pats Hagrid on the arm while reassuring him that his clothes are 'okay'.

"You'll be fine, I'm sure. Whatever happens... happens I guess." He now takes the emptied parcel before tossing it into the forest and burning it with a fire-making charm.

Today's lunch turns out to be as magnificent as Harry's ever seen, with a stunning variety of foods and desserts put out. From hundreds of turkeys to puddings galore to piles of wizarding crackers everywhere, the House tables are certainly decked out for Christmas. Not a single student seems to have changed into their dress robes yet, and for good reason, since the Ball is set to start at 8pm.

The rest of the afternoon sees Harry wandering about the castle with his girls, and even taking the time to scribble a few last lines on his Herbology essay.

"Working on Christmas, ridiculous," he mutters.

"Shut up and write," replies Pansy, as the hours pass by until 6pm. With the skies darkened, and students getting into formal wear, she returns to the dormitory with Harry. Both soon slip on their nearly identical dress robes resembling black Victorian tailcoats. Pansy's one differs in that it lacks the green linings and silver serpent (on the back) as on Harry's.

"You both almost look like those Muggle butlers," says a laughing Tracey, who's changed to her (slightly less feminine) royal-blue dress robes.

"And you look like what the Muggles probably wore a century or so back," replies Harry.

"Who cares about Muggles?" Tracey grins upon seeing her partner, Daphne, exit the bathroom in her lavish pink dress.

"Well I guess we know which one's more of a boy here tonight," says Harry, while gesturing towards Tracey.

All eyes soon glance at Sally-Anne, who wears quite a stylish set of lilac dress robes. Then, Millicent steps out the bathroom to show off her silky maroon tea-length dress.

"And yes, Potter baby, we all supported the not-so-poor little orphan," says Pansy, whose shiny slicked back hair suggests that she's used Sleekeazy's. The rest of the girls' hair also appear quite styled indeed which brings a smile to Harry.

"Aww, we supported the little boy," laughs Daphne, before the girls begin to fuss over his hair.

"Fleur wants it just as messy as ever—"

"Yeah, so it's harder for us to tell when she's done doing the deed with you," quips Pansy.

"—ahem, as I was saying... she says I look best with it like this." Harry ruffles his own hair, making it even messier than usual.

"It does suit you really well, or we're just so used to it already," admits Sally-Anne. "But the irony comes from you running around promoting hair care products, and looking like this on the big night."

"I am who I am, everyone else can sponsor me by buying grandpa's stuff," replies Harry cheekily.

"Uh, actually, maybe it's better if you do wear some Sleekeazy's tonight, just to show that you're no hypocrite," says Pansy firmly. "Here, lemme sort you out."

Harry sits on the edge of his bed as Pansy opens a tub of Hair Potion and lathers her hands before styling him up.

"Ta-da!" She takes him to a bathroom mirror where he sees his styled unruly look. Although it seems similar to earlier, Harry's hair now shines a slight bit more from the Potion, leaving him quite impressed.

"Looks pretty great, hey, haha!" Harry laughs as Pansy swiftly kisses him on the forehead.

"Just getting one in before Fleur Delicacy's all over you tonight."

By 7:30pm, the entrance hall seems absolutely packed with students dressed in all manner of dress robes. Partners from different Houses scramble around trying to find each other in the growing crowd of students. Many girls (and some boys) stand around viewing and discussing their peers' formal wear for tonight. Then, Hermione makes a most dramatic entrance with Viktor Krum as they meet up at the base of the marble staircase. Stunned looks come from every student around them at this rather shocking revelation. But while the girls find themselves gawking at Hermione's luck, the boys now crane their necks towards the front double doors.

Dressed in most exquisite robes of satin silver-gray, Fleur Delacour walks in with her head held high. Long, silvery blonde hair blows out from even a mild breeze behind her as she enters the castle. Her skin seems to almost glow in the light of many a lit torch in the entrance hall, catching every single boy's open-mouthed stare. The room feels nearly airless as Fleur continues to walk slowly towards the marble staircase.

Standing at its top, and feeling countless envious expressions directed his way, Harry slowly descends the steps. With one hand on its railing, he smiles brightly upon seeing his date for the night. For just when he thought that Fleur Delacour could hardly look any prettier, she certainly proves him wrong.

"You look beautiful."

"Stole the words right out my mouth," replies Harry, before bringing Fleur's hand to his lips and giving it a kiss. The gesture causes quite a few girls nearby to inform their dates to 'take note.'

With his heart racing, Harry can hardly help but spend the next few minutes simply looking at Fleur, who returns the gesture with a smile.

"Champions over here, please!" calls Professor McGonagall, standing to the side of the Great Hall's entrance.

"Oh my, zey do look so adorable together indeed," says a giggling Fleur, as Alyssa and Pansy shock the crowd with their arrival. The older cousin seems to be wearing a rather neat combination of black shirt over matching dress. Harry can only laugh as the crowd seems stuck on three topics thus far: Hermione with Viktor Krum, Harry with Fleur Delacour, and the Parkinson girls pairing up for the night.

"Well, aren't we full of surprises?" asks Harry, while looking at Hermione (dressed in floaty, periwinkle-blue robes) approaching beside Viktor Krum. She then whispers at Harry upon walking past.

"Feeling any regrets yet?"

"Hmm..." He shakes his head. "It's just your hair that's neater tonight. Otherwise, you're still as gorgeous as ever."

Their bit of whispering has Krum briefly glancing at Harry before standing a few metres away with a fairly nervous Hermione.

"You are indeed crazy, Meester," whispers Fleur while poking Harry in the side. "Flirting with ze girl of Viktor Krum right under 'is nose... your whisper was not so soft, you know!"

"That's Hermione Granger, in case you didn't know."

"Your first 'Ogwarts friend? Well, okay, now I understand." Fleur's slight scowl turns to her usual smile once more, as she wraps her arm around Harry's. The latter now shakes and kisses Alyssa's hand as she walks past.

"Don't get any ideas, Potter boy," says Pansy. "I might let her dance with other boys but nobody's gonna be doing anything to my cousin...  _understand_?"

"Yes," replies Harry stiffly. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good."

The striking similarities between Harry and Pansy's chosen formal wear sparks much debate and discussion among various students. However, everyone but the Champions and their partners are told to enter the Great Hall first then await the eight students outside. Now Harry and Fleur stand right at the door with Alyssa and Pansy behind them. Thirdly, stands Viktor Krum and Hermione followed by Angelina (in a scarlet dress with gold linings) and Fred (wearing brown dress robes).

"Good to see everyone dressed so wonderfully for tonight. Now, follow me into the Hall towards your table please," says McGonagall, who leads the Champions and their partners inside to a round of applause from everyone.

"We are stealing this show, aren't we?" whispers Harry to a proud Fleur, as they enter the decorated Great Hall. Its walls seem to be covered in sparkling silver frost while mistletoe and ivy adorn the enchanted ceiling. Hundreds of round, lantern-lit, tables have been spread out across the Hall, each seating about a dozen people.

"I would say your Granger girl and Krum are, but we are doing a vairy good job in drawing ze attention. Zey are all talking about us so much now," replies Fleur, as they slowly approach a large round table at the top of the Hall. "I do not blame zem zough, your dress robes look very elegant."

"Heh, thanks, but you look far better than me tonight. Not a single boy can stop gawking at you," admits Harry, who spots known faces while walking. Sally-Anne appears to be clapping excitedly while her partner, Malfoy (dressed similar to a vicar), looks comically at the Parkinson pair. The Champions and their partners soon reach the table where the judges are sitting.

Dumbledore and Madame Maxime seem to be beaming as the Champions approach, while Karkaroff bears a narrowed eyed expression at Krum's choice of partner. Ludo Bagman claps as excitedly as any of the students around while Mr. Crouch sits with a smile, but Harry can tell there's something bothering him.

Still, Harry takes the empty seat beside Mr. Crouch as Fleur sits to the former's left.

"Well done with the Horntail, boy."

"Thank you, sir. Are you alright?" Harry shakes Mr. Crouch's hand while trying to understand what's bothering him so much.

"Oh, don't worry, just the stress of organizing this entire Tournament. That's why I've left less important matters to that Weatherby kid in the Ministry. He's far too overenthusiastic for his own good, though."

Wondering who the hell this 'Weatherby' could be, Harry listens as Mr. Crouch discusses the first task with each of the Champions, before wishing them luck on the second one. He then turns to Harry and whispers:

"The others weren't quite paying attention at the time, but I reckon you used the Cruciatus Curse at some point in the task?"

Harry's heart sinks as he wonders whether this'll get him penalized or, worse, sent to Azkaban.

"Y-Yes, but it was weak and I needed to get free before that thing took another hit—"

"Relax, I understand. Wouldn't expect a 14 year old to pull any of those off adeptly anyway."

"You, uh, don't have a problem with an Unforgivable?" whispers Harry worriedly.

"It's only Unforgivable when used against people. Besides, I ever tell you about the time when I was Head of Law Enforcement?"

"No." Even though Harry's been told of these events already, Mr. Crouch does mention how he once legalised those Curses against the Dark Lord and followers.

"'Arry, are you not going to be eating? I believe we just speak to zese golden plates and ze food will come. Pick up your menu," says Fleur softly, before Mr. Crouch turns to speak to Bagman.

"How'd you guess at this?" asks Harry.

"Eef you were not whispering so much with zat Crouch man zen you would 'ave noticed Meester Dumbly-Dorr doing so at 'is plate. Look, 'e 'as summoned pork chops to eat."

But Harry's attention turns to Hermione, who doesn't seem bothered about the extra work placed on the kitchen's House Elves tonight. In fact, she seems to be speaking rather deeply with Krum who replies just as enthusiastically. The topic of him flying over the mountains with schoolmates has Karkaroff politely warning him not to disclose Durmstrang's location. This in turn elicits an amusing response from Dumbledore involving him stumbling across a room 'filled with exquisite chamber pots' on the seventh-floor. What piques Harry's attention is Dumbledore mentioning how it had vanished when he tried to find it again, and might've appeared due to his initial full bladder.

"Bah, this castle plays many tricks on its people," says Karkaroff rather dismissively, though Dumbledore gives Harry a very small wink that doesn't go unnoticed by the latter.

"What is wrong? Something worrying you, my leetle 'Arry?" asks Fleur, whose term of endearment elicits a snorting laugh from Madame Maxime sitting opposite them.

"Uh no, just thinking about something..." Harry wonders what Dumbledore's odd reply had meant, since he'd surely not discuss toilet matters at a lavish food table for no reason?

Fleur's sigh interrupts Harry's thoughts as she reminds him to actually eat something before the dance. "You will need zat energy, uzzerwise I will be 'aving my partner collapsing from ze 'unger. Zat is most unexceptable."

"Unacceptable, you mean."

Harry isn't the only one teaching pronunciation at the table, as Hermione attempts to teach Viktor Krum how to say her name. Although she smiles at Harry while doing so, the latter balls a fist beneath the table while glaring at Krum. Then, a golden plate appears right in Harry's face as Fleur lifts it before him.

"Speak already, Meester!"

"Uh... steak, lamb chops, salmon and some trout?"

"Very nice, it appears just like  _zat_!" says Fleur, slapping her hand on the table for emphasis as Harry's plate fills up. "What a strange combination of food zough, and no rice or potatoes?"

The meal is finished rather quickly before Harry glances at Krum happily eating with a laughing Hermione.

"Hmph, well, I'll have a piece of garash cake in this plate"—Harry then looks at the golden bowl beside his plate—"and in here some tarator soup, yes."

Once the dessert and soup appear in the plate and bowl respectively, Fleur softly laughs at the frowning Harry.

"You are one 'ilarious bastard, you know zat? Well, let me play zis game of yours with." She stops to glance down at her emptied plate. "In 'ere 'ow about some, um, shopska salad! Zen in my bowl I want some supa ot kopriva."

Sniggering at Fleur's sudden change to Bulgarian cuisine, Harry grins as they munch down their meals side-by-side. Each takes to giving the other a sample of their bowls or plates while noting that they are quite good indeed.

"Alright." Harry rubs his hands gleefully while looking down at his plate once again.

" _Merde_ , are you not full yet?" asks a surprised Fleur, while Alyssa and Pansy glance curiously at his antics.

"'E does eat a lot for a very leetle man," says Madame Maxime, before she turns to smile at the waving Hagrid (who sits at another staff table.)

"Righto! Ahem, now I will be having a piece of banitsa."

A slice of pastry appears in which Harry takes a bite before pulling out a piece of parchment from his mouth.

"The hell?"

"Ze Bulgarians traditionally 'ave predictions in zis food. Eet is all guesswork and stuff but let us see what yours says?" asks a whispering Fleur.

"Money."

"Ooooo', yes, maybe my leetle 'Arry might be getting rich in ze future? But eet is just a guess, still fun to read zough."

Thankfully, none of the adults nearby seems to be paying much attention to Harry's antics as they chat and continue finishing their meals.

"Whoa, the Weird Sisters are walking to the stage," says Fred. "Guess it's time to dance... so let's go, Captain!"

"Eet is time to dance in each uzzer's arms, 'Arry."

"You really like saying my name, don't you?"

"'Arry, 'Arry, 'Arry Potter..." Fleur giggles before standing up as the lanterns atop the other tables are put out. All eyes are now on the dance floor as the Champions and partners take their place. Harry stands up, places his hand around Fleur's waist (causing some gasps around them) then basically struts over to the dance floor. "'Arry, your 'and needs to be on my waist and not ze arse."

"You are so divine." He takes up the waltz position as the Weird Sisters strike up a slow, mournful tune for those on the brightly lit dance floor.

"Zat is my good leetle dancer, yes. Very, very good."

All Harry sees are those deep blue eyes staring into his as they waltz around the dance floor. Hardly anyone else is noticed by Harry nor Fleur as the pair of Champions move in sync, clearly having practiced on many occasions for this moment. Gradually, more couples take to the floor while glancing at Harry and Fleur still moving as though they have just started.

"You can stare into my eyes all night long, my adorable Champion, but we are now passing ze boy 'oo always dislikes you."

Before Harry can wonder who Fleur's talking about, Nott's voice is soon heard as the latter dances with some Ravenclaw Pureblood.

"How'd that dirty teacher get his hair all neat? Must've taken more Hair Potions than he could afford."

"Simple, I bought nearly a dozen and helped him out," responds Harry, while slowly dancing and looking at Fleur as Nott's now behind him.

"You spent over 30 Galleons on one big oaf?"

"I spent 7 Galleons on this wand. Wanna see what it does?"

"Oooo' I do like it when you get so strict, 'Arry," whispers Fleur, as Nott moves across the dance floor following Harry's smiling threat. "You really like zat 'Agrid man, right? I noticed you sometimes smile like a leetle-leetle boy with 'im."

"Well..." Harry laughs as they continue to dance in each other's arms. "He has had quite a sad life. So one day when this is all over and I sort my friggin life out, I'm repaying the favour."

The pair continues to dance, even as some of the Champions and others have stopped to get themselves refreshments. Then, the Weird Sisters decide to play another waltz tune, as requested by quite a few dancers.

"What is zis favour you speak of?" Fleur steers Harry into a turn before he holds her slightly closer, while still looking into her eyes.

"Perhaps when I'm done with school, or sometime after that, I can take Hagrid to Diagon Alley so he can start over. Do his seven years of school from the start, then nobody can ever make fun of him again."

"Zat is very zoughtful of you indeed. So zat is why you threatened ze Nott boy earlier?"

"He's like cancer, don't talk about him while we're dancing." Harry grins as Fleur stops moving around the dance floor, and instead she places one hand behind his head. This is followed by giving the students nearby something to fervently observe as Harry rests his head above Fleur's bosom.

"Just zere, yes. Any lower and we will draw all ze attention, and you might be on one questioneeble place."

"I'm certainly satisfied with where I am now," says Harry, whose cheek rests on her chest, and her chin on his hair. "If I look down I see..."

"Cleavage, my dear 'Arry, but do not make yourself so obvious right now. Ze second slow song is almost over. I do not zink zey will play anuzzer one, maybe zey will go faster zis time?"

"I promised someone a dance, would that be okay?"

"Yes, but no kissing or funny stuff while I go get me a dreenk."

"Try not to come back drunk, alright?"

Fleur laughs as she turns around. "I would like to enjoy zis night sober with my leetle 'Arry after all."

Looking around, Harry spots Ginny and Neville both sitting down for a rest. The former looks up with slightly widened eyes as Harry approaches.

"Hey, Neville, mind if I give my rival Seeker a dance?"

"Uh, okay, no problem."

Harry extends his arm out before the beaming Ginny. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

"Oh you certainly may, my good sir! Be back in a bit alright, Neville?"

Practically jumping out of her seat, Ginny grabs onto Harry's hand before they walk to the centre of the dance floor.

"I heard mum play this song at home once, so we have about five minutes until it's done. Where's your Phlegm?"

" _Fleur_ , just for one night say it like that." Harry almost gasps as Ginny grabs him to stand close while they waltz.

"Shhh, and let me look into those eyes, Mister Potter."

"Ahem, lemme think two years back...hehehe..." Harry puts on an exaggerated feminine voice while looking Ginny in her brown eyes as they dance. " _His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, His hair is as dark as a blackboard. I wish he was mine, he's really divine, The hero who conquered the Dark Lord._ "

With a gasp and a slight groan, a furiously blushing Ginny looks down as Harry grins very smugly.

"I will never ever forget it, little Miss Weasley. Were you high, drunk, possessed, or actually sane when you wrote that?"

Ginny pretends to not have heard Harry's remark while they dance. "The Great Hall's really beautiful tonight, isn't it?"

"Haha, it's okay if you're embarrassed. I kinda like that poem, very cute, Ginny, very cute. Even wrote it down in one of my books which, fortunately, doesn't seem to write back to me."

"You really liked that awful poem? It was Valentine's Day and all that... didn't know what I was thinking." Her cheeks seem as red as ever tonight while looking at the whispering Harry.

"Well, I'd much rather read your writing than...  _Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary_?"

"From one badboy to the other, sorry about all that." Ginny lets Harry lift and spin her in the air, then she giggles as they continue to dance. "Better watch out though, because Ron's dancing right behind you now."

With a quick glance over his shoulder, Harry spots Ron dancing with a grinning Fay Dunbar.

"Coming through, it's just me dancing with your little sister..."

"The bloody hell?"

"Oh come off it, Ron," says Ginny, as they dance past the couple. "Harry's done you more good than you'd care to imagine tonight."

"Really now?" Ron appears sceptical at best.

"I'll tell you about it in private tomorrow," replies Ginny, much to Fay's (who wears burgundy dress robes) curiosity.

As the second waltz song comes to a close, Harry releases Ginny's hand before giving it a kiss.

"Oh gosh," mutters Ginny. "Is it hot in here or what?"

"Don't melt the ice now, hehehe. But you do look so cute in those dress robes. Aww, mummy cares about her littlest Weasley, doesn't she?"

Giggling once more, Ginny folds her arms and grins. "Hmph, well, you certainly look like a Black with that fancy tailcoat, don't you? Oh watch out, we have a snob in a suit over here."

"Shut up," replies a laughing Harry. "I think Neville's waiting for you."

"Thanks for the dance, Harry."

He winks in return before listening to a third waltz tune about to be played by the Weird Sisters due to popular demand of the crowd. Almost immediately, Harry hurries over to Fleur drinking at one of the tables.

"May I 'ave anuzzer dance, my lady?"

She snorts with laughter, causing a bit of punch to stain her robes. No worries though as she swiftly casts a cleaning spell to sort things out.

"Let me sit 'ere and chase away ze many boys asking me to dance, eet is very fun. In ze meantime, maybe you should ask your 'Ermione friend 'oo you 'ave been looking at so often."

The suggestion leaves Harry to make his way past a few tables where Hermione seems to be waiting for Viktor Krum to bring them drinks. Upon spotting Harry, she immediately frowns.

"Think you're pretty funny with that Bulgarian cuisine routine, hmm? Lucky for you, Viktor's too mature to fall for such childishness!"

"Whoa, okay, I'm sorry about all that. Was really stupid of me to do..." Harry gets on his knees while making a pleading gesture. "Forgive me with a dance, my good lady?"

Hermione seems to be considering the offer until Krum returns with drinks in hand, his expression curious indeed.

"Harry Potter's my friend, even if an immature one at times..." explains Hermione, before Krum nods as she asks to be excused for a dance.

While Harry and Hermione stand in the centre of the dance floor, the former appears rather curious. "He never made mention of my flying skills, or anything, at all? We've hardly spoken before."

"Viktor hasn't asked anything about you, honestly," says Hermione. "Strange, I know, but he's a really nice guy after all."

They soon waltz across the dance floor, ignoring any looks sent their way from people like Malfoy or Nott. For the students around who are unaware of Hermione's closeness to Harry, their dance comes as a bit of a surprise now.

"Look me in the eye as we dance, Mugglebabe."

"Our partners shouldn't be kept waiting too long, Mister King."

She may not share the sheer beauty of veela ancestry, but Harry reckons that Hermione's quite graceful on the dance floor. He now grins while looking her in the eye.

"You've always had nice brown eyes, Miss Granger. One of the best pairs I've seen since my glasses got fixed."

"Shhh, just dance, little lonely train compartment boy."

While turning and stepping together, they soon pass by a few staff members who seem to be observing the students dancing.

"Is it just me or is Professor Snape looking at us and... daydreaming?" asks Hermione.

"Look, I've given up trying to understand that man." Harry grins as Hermione's hand seems to be feeling along his back. "Something wrong?"

"No, just feeling what your little serpent embroidery's made from. Quite a nifty addition if I may say so myself, oh, someone's coming..."

Harry glances left to see Alyssa approach.

"Okay, so I've finally convinced little P to let me have a dance with my fellow extra Champion. Shall we got at it then? If you're done dancing with your Muggleborn friend that is?"

"I might as well not keep Viktor waiting," says Hermione, as she thanks Harry for the dance before returning to her date.

This leaves the former to take up a waltz position with the slightly taller Alyssa. Her blue eyes and long black hair makes for a nice combination, in Harry's opinion. But before he can ogle her too long, he looks over Alyssa's shoulder to see a narrow-eyed Pansy sitting at a table. The latter gestures a V-sign with her index and middle fingers from pointing at her eyes to Harry, as if to say 'I am watching you.'

"I think it's really cute how she's so over-protective over you, even though you're years older," says Harry, who starts their dance.

"We've always been close for as long as I can remember. When I was about three or four I think I used to carry her around in my arms, which her mum didn't mind. Years later, I remember baking muffins and cupcakes which little P used to sample. Oh boy, she was quite honest about the taste at times, but it was fun. Shhh, don't tell anyone but I sometimes let her play with my wand before she got hers. That's why she knew the levitation spell on day one of your Charms."

"I just knew that someone must've taught her, even Flitwick got suspicious but didn't take it up with anyone though." Harry revolves in the dance a bit, with Alyssa steering him as they maintain eye contact.

"You've probably heard people compliment your eyes too often so lemme say something else. I really do think that you and Pansy would make a nice couple. You both have black hair and green eyes so that's one thing. I'm not blind, you know, so it's pretty obvious how you two match up. It doesn't take a genius to see that she likes you."

"I know, and I like her too." Harry gives a soft laugh as he's now being led in the dance by Alyssa. "But there are other girls on my mind as well, and I really can't help that."

"I said Pansy's a good match for you, not that she should be the  _only_  match. Just don't go over four in the future, because anymore would be a nightmare to handle."

Seconds later, Pansy comes striding across the dance floor while glaring at them.

"Okay, enough touchy-touchy with my cousin." She 'politely' pulls Harry away from the amused Alyssa. "My turn now, before the sappy tunes are over. Ahem, isn't there something you should be doing?"

Pansy's snap of the fingers has Harry swiftly extending his arm. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever. Let's have at it, Potter baby."

 


	30. A Strange Room

"What were you and Alyssa talking about?" asks Pansy, who's now completely taken over her dance with Harry. The latter finding himself being steered all the way in their waltz, except that he lifts and spins her.

"Uh, the Tournament, yes."

"Really?" Pansy tilts her head and narrows her eyes suspiciously. "Right out here in the open? I highly doubt that."

"Which one of us is the boy in this dance?" Harry now feels almost pulled along like a show dog on display.

"You're looking at 'em." Pansy grins mischievously again, that same devilish smile that could appear on any of the Parkinsons Harry's met thus far. "Come on, Potter babe, keep up with me now. We have the same attire so dance in tune with me. Move it."

"Oh yeah?" Harry decides to be a bit more dominant in the waltz as he grips Pansy's hand firmly before leading her along. They stare into each other's eyes, from one shade of green to another, while passively battling for dominance in the final few minutes of the Weird Sisters' slow song.

"Man, you guys are kinky," whispers Daphne, who's dancing along rather nicely with Tracey as they pass by Harry and Pansy.

"Pfft, look who's talking. Now  _that_  is what I call kinky." Harry winks at the two girls who then discreetly gesture him middle fingers. With the third (and final) slow song done for the night, Harry releases Pansy's hands before giving them a kiss. This has her turning to glance at the surrounding girls from other Houses and tilting her nose in the air quite smugly.

"Well, that was very nice, Potter boy, but let's not keep our partners waiting any longer." Pansy now kisses his hands before returning to her cousin seated at a distant table. Harry, meanwhile, walks past a few tables where various students and staff have taken to sit. He spots faces such Professor Sinistra, Vector, Sprout, Madam Hooch, and Professor Trelawney (quite drunk). Then there's Moody who refuses a glass of champagne and instead takes a gulp from his hip flask.

Deciding to approach the partially-filled staff table, Harry finds himself being observed rather intently as he speaks with Madam Hooch. As expected, she narrows her hawk-like eyes while discussing both Fleur and his performances back in November.

"I'm not saying anything, Mr. Potter, but you seemed to have gotten yourself a date who's much wanted around the school. And this after you both flew that Firebolt of yours in the first task. It's also odd that she never bothered to actually remove the broom after her performance."

"Maybe I'm just a very fortunate guy who makes the right choices?" responds Harry cryptically, to which Madam Hooch snorts with a laugh at his cheek. Thankfully, Moody soon changes the topic to rather congratulate him once more on his performance, before Mr. Crouch walks towards them.

"Bartemius, you old fart, take a seat and have a drink. I do think you need it," says Moody, who triple checks a glass of wine before pouring a small bit for Mr. Crouch.

"One will do, I suppose."

Harry watches with a fair bit of intrigue as Moody and Mr. Crouch speak as any old pair of acquaintances would. Their very blunt views on certain aspects of life draws slight debates with the Professors seated around the table.

"You are spooking the life out of my first year students," says Madam Hooch to Moody. "Some of them are starting to believe the school's brooms are easily tampered with... and dangerous."

"Good on the little ones then, constant vigilance is always welcome."

"Right, um, I'll just excuse myself," says Harry, before leaving the staff (and Triwizard judge) to their grown-up conversations while Harry approaches Fleur to the far right. "Um, you're not drunk, are you?"

"No, but speaking of getting drunk... you should see zose two over zere. Eet is quite 'ilarious to 'ear." Fleur gestures her head to the left where Harry spots Yasmin looking indignantly at another sixth year Slytherin girl.

"Come on, Yas, just try it."

"What part of 'I do not ever drink alcohol nor eat pork' don't you understand?" replies Yasmin, who Harry notes as wearing very attractive emerald dress robes with black sleeves. Her long brunette hair seems shiny enough to suggest that she's also bought Sleekeazy's.

"But you're missing out on all the fun stuff, seriously!"

"Offer me pork again and I might 'accidentally' turn you into a pig. Now please also take this wine out of my face."

Soon, Harry decides to approach the pair of girls, who greet him with a wave.

"What's going on here?" he asks, to which the other sixth year girl replies:

"Oh, I'm just trying to get ol' Yas here to loosen up a bit... but she's tighter than Gringotts bank."

"Pig and alcohol really stink, girl, I can't stand it. If they go in that bad... ugh, I don't even wanna think about when they come out. You alright, Harry?"

He nods before rubbing his hands excitedly. "So, I heard the news about you. Is Miss Prefect ready for her big day ahead?"

Yasmin beams with a smile as she nods passionately. "Oh yes indeed! That's why I've been practicing for more than just dancing with my partner. We're gonna own that Quaffle alongside Flint, just you watch."

"And uh who exactly is your partner?" asks Harry curiously.

"He's over there." Yasmin points out Adrian Pucey standing a fair distance away while getting them water. "Had to make sure I picked the right one for tonight. Luckily, Adrian doesn't drink alcohol nor eats...  _that_." She gestures to the pork chops being eaten by the sixth year girl sitting beside her.

"Oh my word." Harry facepalms himself. "And here I was telling him he might be able to play only next year."

"Relax, Adrian knows he's booked for our match. Me, him, and Marcus are going to make a terrific trio in midfield."

"What the hell's midfield?" asks the sixth year girl, after downing her snack.

"Hahaha!" Yasmin's laugh lets Harry know she's guilty of watching football, even though she's a Pureblood. "What I meant to say was that we're gonna make a terrific trio in Chaser."

"Chaser's actually everything but goalie put together, you know. Defender, midfielder, forward... we're all over," says Harry.

"I knew that." Yasmin stands up as Adrian returns with their water, which she takes a slight sniff at.

"Taking a cue from Mad-Eye Moody, eh? There's no poison nor other substances in here. Oh, hey, Harry."

"Adrian." Harry shakes his hand. "Sorry man, I didn't know you're due to play this year."

"Ah, don't worry about it. Just wanted to hear if there's still some spot left for me next year. Especially with the shift in Captaincy as Montague returns to the team..."

Adrian, Harry, and Yasmin, discuss a fair bit of Quidditch for the next few minutes until Fleur finally comes to politely excuse her partner.

"Let us go outside,  _mon chéri._ "

"But don't you wanna dance now? This is a rather catchy tune," replies Harry, while watching many students (notably Fred and Angelina) dancing exuberantly to a faster tune played by the band.

"Ze sky looks nice and starry tonight." Fleur leads Harry by the hand towards the Great Hall's exit into the entrance hall. "Eet will be lovely to spend ze night out 'ere with you now."

They soon exit the castle and find themselves in the entrance courtyard which has been notably changed for tonight. Rosebushes and living fairy lights seem to be everywhere around the lavishly decorated front of the castle. Winding paths pass by many a statue while students sit on carved benches all around them.

Minutes later, Harry and Fleur hurriedly head down the path as they overhear Snape and Karkaroff discussing something rather cryptic. The former sounds dismissive while the latter seems to be in an almost panicked tone.

"I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts."

"Severus, please, surely you can feel it as well? We must hide before he returns! His wrath will kill us all—"

Snape seemingly ignores the pleas from an uncharacteristically worried Karkaroff as the former blasts apart rosebushes. Squeals of students can be heard as they flee while having House points deducted for a variety of reasons.

"Severus, help—" Karkaroff's pleas are once again ignored as Snape hurriedly strides towards Harry and Fleur.

"What are you doing out here, _Potter_?" He eyes Harry most menacingly, hardly seeming to notice Fleur.

"We're just going for a walk, sir." Harry spots Karkaroff nervously fiddling with his goatee as Snape continues to admonish Harry.

"Really now?" drawls Snape scathingly. "And if I end up seeing new Potters in my class in over a decade's time, I'll know  _exactly_  who to blame. Keep your wits about you!"

"Excuse me, what, sir?" Harry hopes that Fleur's soft giggle beside him now goes unnoticed.

"Severus, perhaps we can continue our discussion?" asks Karkaroff, though it seems that Snape strides away looking for any excuse not to speak with him.

"Can you believe what he just said? And that's supposed to be my Head of House, role model... whatever!"

"'E does seem to almost 'ave your sense of 'umor, 'Arry."

"The way he talks... damn. You'd think I walk around with my eyes shut, banging off the walls..."

Fleur laughs so loudly that more students flee from their rosebushes. "Well, I zink eet is time for ze leetle boy to grow up now."

"Say what n—" Harry yelps as Fleur practically drags him over towards a distant rosebush. She then sits him on the lawn before taking a seat facing him on his lap. Her hands grasping the bust of her satin dress. "The hell are you doing? Oh..."

"You talk about such zings all ze time, so, 'ave a look."

With Fleur seemingly seconds away from exposing her chest, Harry sits rather wide-eyed now. "Well you see, um, damn, I just... don't know." His heart races as she grins at him while giving Harry a view to remember.

"Like what you see, my leetle 'Arry?"

"Oh my... but I... what the hell is wrong with me?" Harry feels as if he's more battling with himself than anyone else here. "You're absolutely gorgeous, Fleur, the prettiest girl I've ever seen in my whole little life, but..." His eyes remain locked on her exposed chest, his cheeks a notable shade of red. But the slightly hesitant look on his face soon has Fleur eyeing him carefully, before she slowly smiles.

"'Ave I shocked ze leetle boy too much? I 'ad zought zat you would be  _jumping my bones_  as some people might say."

Harry's head now drops, much like Uncle Vernon had done after Hagrid revealed Harry's a wizard.

"What am I doing? Okay... let's go at it."

"No." Fleur politely sits him back down as he tries to get up. "Now I see zat you are truly a scared leetle boy."

"But I don't want to disappoint you, I can't—"

"You are only fourteen after all, and I do sometimes forget zat. Ze zings you do makes me almost zink you are of age. Taking down ze dragon, walking around like you are ze boss... It is 'ard to remember zat ze famous young 'Arry is just zat. Still a child."

All Harry can do is sit almost deathly still as Fleur strokes her hand in his hair. The sensation quite pleasing indeed as he softly replies. "I can drop my robes right now for you, if that's what you want."

She laughs ever so slightly. "What I want is for you to be comfortable 'ere tonight, not do something against your will."

Before he knows what he's doing, Harry finds himself wrapping his arms around Fleur's back. Her perfect lips pressed to his for the very first kiss of his entire life, beneath the stars of a clear night's sky. Everything seems to almost float away now as he lets Fleur take charge of the embrace. She gently grasps at his hair before placing his hands on her firm bosom. Then he pulls back and seems just as surprised as her.

"Have I done it right?"

"Magneeficent, young man." Fleur pulls up her dress' bust once more before letting Harry lean back against a wall. "Perhaps I should be saying sorry for being so quick earlier. Ze zought of 'aving you 'ad just taken over me for a moment."

He smiles as she sits beside him before leaning in for a warm hug. Her cheek rests against his chest while long, silvery blonde hair flows over him.

"Aren't you getting cold out here in just a dress?"

"I am as warm as can be tonight."

Still feeling like he's disappointed Fleur, Harry runs his hands through her silky smooth hair as they look up to the stars above. "You're probably all ready to go, and here I've bloody chickened out of the big moment."

"Maybe zere is more to 'aving a good Ball zan just making love, young man. Now stop stressing yourself to bits. Fine, if you are so worried about not giving it to me zen feel free to use zose rough 'ands."

Indeed he does just that, as for the next twenty minutes, Harry cuddles up with Fleur behind a few rosebushes. He runs his hands over her soft skin, caressing the girl as she smiles and kisses him in return. Checking his watch, Harry soon sees that it's half past nine now. Keeping his voice to a gentle whisper as Fleur lays against him, he asks if she'd like to head inside again.

"Zat depends on you, Meester. We could stay out 'ere and 'ave zose 'ands all over me or go dance."

Following a moment's consideration, Harry decides to spend another half an hour out here beneath the night sky. From Fleur's hair to her cheeks, neck, and shoulders, he caresses and kisses her most affectionately.

"Your 'ands do feel very good, truly."

"I still think you deserve a bit of..ahem...  _release_  after all this."

"You are vairy insistent, are you not? Is ze boy's pride at stake? Feeling ashamed? Seelly boy... okay zen, put zat smart mouth to good use out 'ere,  _mon amour._ "

It's a good thing that nobody, especially Snape, seems to have passed by their spot near the wall tonight. For all the things learned and performed by Harry now, Fleur somehow manages to keep her voice hushed. As the clock nears 10pm, she stands up, flushed indeed, before neatening her dress and casting a few spells.

"My God, 'Arry, zat was crazy! Maybe in ze future when you are older zen we can add your 'broomsteek' into ze mix with all zat."

"Well, at least you're looking much relieved."

He now stands up before being on the receiving end of a few cleaning charms. After stretching out a bit they make their way up the path towards the castle once more. Both appear all smiles, but Fleur seems even more exuberant now as they step into a loud Great Hall.

"So, Fleur, can you dance like a Hippogriff? Let's catch most of this song before they move on."

"Look at all zese wannabes trying to dance! We will show zem 'oo is King and Queen of ze floor!" She jogs forward while holding Harry by the hand as they force their way to the centre of the dance floor.

Much like he's done in the common room on quite a few occasions, Harry lets loose on his moves, while Fleur joins in as they've done at the Quidditch match before. A fair bit of students from other Houses practically gawk at Harry, who lets Fleur hop in his back before they carry on dancing to a catchy rock song.

"Whoa, Harry, what in heck?"

Ginny comes running across the dance floor (while Neville seems to be dancing with Parvati) to grab Harry by the hands.

"Go ahead zen, she will not be disappointed!" laughs Fleur as Ginny squeals in delight upon being pulled into Harry's 'crazy' dancing.

"You're friggin mental, you know that? Oh my gosh, you party animal!"

Soon a few more girls opt to dance with Harry, who remembers only a few names from the Beauxbatons ones. Some of Alyssa's friends, including Anaïse and Mathilde, join up with Fleur as they surround Harry. At some point, he laughs loudly as Pansy spins him around before grabbing his hands for wild dance. This is followed by Alyssa herself who nudges Pansy aside to get a few minutes of partying before being pulled away by her cousin once more.

"For once... 'House' my arse!" yells Fay Dunbar, who yanks Harry aside to party with as Ron comes walking over.

"Don't be a sod, Ronald, let loose!" says Harry, causing Ron to shrug and carry on dancing with his date. Then, Hermione makes her way towards them while dancing with Krum... and Harry immediately grits his teeth at the scene. "Son of a—"

But he forces himself to look away before moving between Fleur, Ginny, then Tracey and Daphne as the songs carry on.

"There's the boy!" declares Marcus Flint (causing Angelina to pull Fred away from the rest), as he now approaches Harry with Millicent at his side. "Let's have an early victory party right here."

"Who said you're gonna win, Flint?" taunts Ron, though more focused on the music than outright hostilities.

"You will see... you will  _all_  see when the time comes!" Marcus sweeps his pointing gesture across any Gryffindors nearby, before Millicent dances with Harry.

"Ron! Care to give us a dance?" asks Lavender, who arrives with Seamus, Dean, Eloise, and Parvati at her side.

"Oi, not you two," states Ron firmly, while pointing at the laughing Dean and Seamus as they fall in line with a few girls nearby.

"Get... MENTAL!" declares Harry, who spots so many students coming and going from the centre of the dance floor. While he parties mainly with Fleur, Harry even finds himself dancing with Padma and Parvati, Susan Bones, Yasmin and other older Slytherin girls, all in succession before they return to their partners.

"You're like a Snitch that won't stop moving," says Cedric Diggory, who approaches the centre of the dance floor with Cho in hand.

Much to Fred's annoyance, Angelina soon asks Cedric for a dance to which he agrees. This gives Harry an opportunity to tap Cho on the shoulder and make a pleading gesture.

"A dance for me?"

"Better make it good if you want complete and total forgiveness for last year," she replies.

For the next few minutes, as the Weird Sisters switch to different (yet still upbeat) songs, Harry grabs Cho's hand and dances with the older girl. She eventually smiles brightly before Cedric (who hardly seems bothered at Harry's dancing with his partner) resumes partying with Cho.

"Psst," says a voice as Harry's pulled away from the crowd by Fred and George.

"I'm not dancing with guys!"

They laugh before hurriedly responding. "Relax, we're just here to warn you that we're not playing end of Jan. Shhh, don't let slip that there's two Durmstrang Beaters planned for you. Oh, and Viktor Krum's replacing Ginny for that match."

Even though he's well aware of this, Harry still acts shocked as he questions why the twins would inform him.

"Because this Tournament's driving Angelina mental," says Fred.

"I hate to say it but she needs to lose that match, otherwise she's gonna get far too arrogant," says George, before his twin nods in agreement.

"Yeah, it's not like her to act like this now. Just... do us a favour and bring her back to Earth already."

Before suspicions are raised, the twins rejoin their dates as Fred heads towards Angelina, and George towards Katie Bell. This leaves Harry to rejoin Fleur as they carry on dancing (with the occasional water break) for over an hour until half past 11. With just about half an hour to go, the band opts to end the Yule Ball with a series of rather romantic songs.

"Yes, 'Arry, magic does work," says Fleur, in response to the title of one song as she holds him close.

"Best night of my life _ever_ , and with one amazingly beautiful lady as well." He wraps his arms around her as they dance slowly for the next few minutes. Each now takes their turn to rest their head on the other's chest (or Fleur on Harry's head, since she's taller).

"I do wish zis Ball could go on after meednight, eet is far too short, to be honest."

"Yes it is." Harry lifts his head to look into her eyes, then at her kind smile. "I could dance with you all night long."

"If zere was an award for best dancers tonight we would surely 'ave taken eet, yes?"

"For sure," mutters Harry, as Fleur brings her cheek to the top of his head.

As they turn away from most of the crowd, Harry places a kiss between her collarbones that elicits a soft giggle from Fleur. In return, she places one on his head. Then it ends, after four hours of eating, fun, love and laughter, the Yule Ball comes to a close. Everyone still present in the Great Hall gives a loud round of applause to the Weird Sisters band, while many wish that the Ball could extend all night long.

"That flew by, just like  _zat_!" He claps his hands together, mimicking Fleur's earlier action of slapping the table.

She cups his cheeks and smiles. "Zere is still almost six months before I return to France. So even eef ze Yule Ball is now over, zere is nothing to be sad about."

Harry soon strides into the entrance hall with Fleur, then he looks away as Hermione gets a goodnight kiss on the hands from Krum before the latter exits the castle.

"I must be going now too, eet will be such a cold walk to ze carriages I zink."

"Here." Harry slips off his tailcoat, leaving him in shirt, trousers and shoes. "I'd rather you not freeze yourself to bits."

"I 'ave a wand, silly." Fleur chuckles a bit before accepting the gesture and wrapping the tailcoat over her shoulders. "Magic works."

Meanwhile, he spots Hermione glancing at them from the base of the staircase. Then, Ron and the rest of his Gryffindor classmates leave the Great Hall in laughs and smiles as they make their way up towards the grand staircase taking them to their common room.

"Goodnight, Fleur." Harry kisses her on the cheek before she returns the gesture.

"Sleep well, my 'Arry Potter."

The sight of Pansy and Alyssa exiting the Hall in hugs and friendly kisses has Harry smiling brightly, before Hermione ascends many stairs up to her common room. With everything done for the night, everyone heads back to their dormitories to freshen up for some well-deserved rest. Harry, however, soon finds himself on the receiving end of many a tease by the five girls, once he softly recalls his time with Fleur.

"We'll keep it secret, promise!" says Daphne.

"I always knew that tongue was worth more than just naughty talk," adds a grinning Pansy. "Too bad you didn't go all the way, but at least Potter baby's got a start."

Boxing Day sees practically the entire House waking up between breakfast and lunch, with many a student yawning widely. Since the weather's as cold and snowy as winter's been this year, everyone sticks to the castle's cosy interior.

"Yes!" exclaims Harry triumphantly at the breakfast table, upon reading a piece of parchment delivered by a business owl. "Looks like approximately 110 students, that's way more than half the total of the Ball, bought some Sleekeazy's."

"Lucky piece of—" Pansy smiles to stop herself from being overly rude as she listens to Harry state his profits. Fleur, meanwhile, teases him about last night's prediction on wealth.

"But zis is too leetle, I guess. 'Ow much did you make?"

"Well, it says a total of 151 containers were sold, priced at 5 Galleons each. Since I get a 6% share that puts an easy... approximately 45 Galleons in my vault. So whatever I spent on Hagrid is now made up just like that."

"Just like  _zat_!" Fleur slaps her hand on the table, which Harry can't help but find absolutely adorable. "Easy, easy money."

"You didn't really make anything then," admits Sally-Anne.

"But he didn't lose anything much either, which is basically a win as well," says Millicent. "And don't forget that every day brings some sales."

"That explains how my vault is sitting around 38-thousand Galleons at the moment, regards of some spending," says a smug Harry.

"You could buy the entire team new brooms, like, even Firebolts!" says Tracey.

"Do I look like Draco Malfoy?"

Pansy scoffs at Harry. "No, you look better."

"Is ze Firebolt not priced at around... I do not know... maybe 1000 of ze Galleon coin here? Eet will not be a smart zing to do buying six more for ze rest of your team, 'Arry."

"Fleur's right," admits Harry. "That'll cost me 6000 Galleons, a noticeable dent in my vault. I'm wealthy but not super-mega-royalty rich though. Let's not forget delivery costs of about 50 Galleons per Firebolt. So we're actually looking at 6300 Galleons to make Slytherin unbeatable."

"And who said everyone can even handle a Firebolt anyway? Might make the team worse with accidents," says Daphne.

Thankful to have been forced into doing most of his assignments, Harry spends the next couple of days finally completing everything. Therefore, by the final Tuesday of Christmas holidays, he's free to enjoy himself while many other students battle through their work.

"'Arry, I zink I am coming close to solving zis bastard egg. May I borrow your Invisibility Cloak? Because I need somewhere to check underwater?" asks Fleur, while meeting Harry at the fourth floor corridor.

"Underwater? Oh for crying out loud I _was_ underwater with the egg before Christmas!" He grabs at his own hair in frustration.

"You were almost drowning and ze egg was shut. Do you know of anywhere I can use? Not the freezing cold lake, no, Monsieur."

Harry pulls out the Marauder's Map before showing Fleur the location of the Prefects' Bathroom. She memorizes it while he swiftly goes to retrieve his Cloak from his dormitory before borrowing it to her.

"A 'ot tub zing you say? Zat sounds lovely! Would you like to join me zere?"

"Uh, well, there's a ghost that might be there who'd get very jealous. Not even death can keep them away from me, haha. Please don't mention me around her."

"'Oo is eet?"

"Moaning Myrtle, but just pretend that you don't know who she is. But if she doesn't show up then that's cool. She's pretty shy except for known faces."

"Okay, where will you be going now?"

"Gonna go check what Professor Dumbledore was saying about toilets." Harry watches Fleur slip under the Cloak as she makes her way to the Prefects' Bathroom. "Exquisite chamber pots... really now?"

With Map in hand, he avoids most of the school's populace before finding himself traversing the empty seventh floor corridor. But nowhere on the Map are there any lavish bathrooms marked off.

"Argh, you know what?" He kicks at a filled water bucket (probably left behind by Filch) in frustration, spilling its contents everywhere. "Where is that friggin chamber pot room?" Then he wonders why he's talking to himself yet again while running up and down the seventh floor corridor 'like a madman',  in his words. But as he stands in an exposed part of the corridor, Harry soon hears Filch and Mrs. Norris coming up from ahead.

"Who's there? And who the hell kicked over MY bucket? If I catch whoever you are..."

Remembering how the twins once mentioned that the Marauder's Map came from Filch's office, Harry wonders if the caretaker might recognize it. Whether concealed or not, Harry tries to find a place to hide himself since he's unwilling to risk being searched. And Filch certainly loves to confiscate even the most unassuming of things.

"WHO IS THERE? Find them, my near Mrs. Norris..." Filch and his cat seem to be nearing a corner far ahead, and could spot Harry at any moment now.

"Oh crap!"

He presses himself to the wall while hoping to avoid being seen. Thoughts of the Disillusionment Charm come to mind, which he wishes he'd known to be able to hide himself right now. If Filch catches him with the Map...

"What th—"

Before he can even consider what's happening, Harry falls back (through the wall?) and lands face up in an unknown place the size of a cathedral. Towers of seemingly random rubbish seems to be stacked everywhere as far as the eye can see. Its exit may be behind him, but Harry's now quite intrigued by wherever he is, especially since he's not showing up anywhere on the Map now.

He can hardly resist sniggering derisively upon walking past such poor, ancient brooms which lay among the many piles of trash. The vast amount of bottles, crates, chairs, debris, and other junk makes him wonder why Filch hasn't bothered to clean this room before.

"Too much for a squib," mutters Harry, while deciding to walk aimlessly down a few aisles between towers of random things. After feeling as if he's wasted enough time in this gigantic room, Harry checks the Map to see Filch and Mrs. Norris heading for the sixth floor, while Fleur seems to be exiting the Prefects' Bathroom on the fifth.

He needs to hurry, but as soon as Harry turns to head back towards the room's entrance... something feels strange. It feels eerily comfortable in this room, nice and cosy such as when he wore the locket right before his birthday.

But he also remembers Moody's constant warnings about this castle, and how there 'may be dangers anywhere'. A sense of familiarity in this unknown, vast, trash-filled place comes as a warning sign to Harry who soon hurries back to its exit. Once out of the strange room, he sees himself back on the seventh floor corridor. After turning around, Harry pauses for consideration.

"Maybe I should head back into that room one more ti—"

He walks face-first into the stony wall before him, his cheeks now heated in embarrassment.

_"Oculus Reparo."_

After fixing the slight cracks on his glasses, Harry conceals the Map. Then he wonders where the room's entrance had gone before deciding to make his way towards the awaiting Fleur. Two floors down, near the Prefects' Bathroom, he soon spots her pulling off the Cloak.

"Where 'ave you been?"

"Uh..." He hesitates to admit that he's quite literally just walked into a wall. "Been out and about."

"Okay zen, well... ta-da!" Fleur grins most triumphantly. "I 'ave figured ze clue out. Yes I 'ave!"

"No kidding?"

"None of ze kidding, but eet will not be so eas—" Her sentence is interrupted as Harry cups her cheeks and kisses her firmly on those perfect lips. Both savour a moment's worth of pleasure before he pulls back.

"Saved me the trouble of figuring this impossible clue out, thank you, darling."

"A'em... as I was saying. Eet will not be so easy because I believe zey will be taking something important to each of us... down into to ze lake. Merpeople, I mean. And we will be needing to breathe underwater for an hour to search!"

"Well, this _is_ the magical wizarding world, so there must be ways to breathe underwater for an hour, right?"

"Right you are, my leetle 'Arry." She pats and ruffles his hair while tilting her head and smiling.

"How'd you guess at opening the egg underwater though?"

"Alyssa told me, she said zat eet worked for 'er yesterday at ze lake."

"Must've gotten the idea from when I fell backwards, I guess."

Fleur returns the Cloak to Harry before cupping her hands rather tightly on his face.

"Ow, what are you doing?" He sees her forming a circle with her hands over his face, pinching his lips together in the process.

"You look like a feesh when I do zis, so cute. But I will be using maybe ze Bubble-'Ead Charm to breathe, yes?"

"Care to teach that charm to me?"

"Ze feesh speaks!" Fleur claps her hands together rather playfully while sniggering. "Well, will zat not be too obvious if we both use similar tactics again? No, maybe try something of your own?"

"Good idea, don't wanna arouse too much suspicion again."

Armed with newfound knowledge of the Second Task, Harry now sets off to discuss things with his girls back in their dormitory.

 


	31. Preparing for Action

Weighed down by their filled bags once more, many students now set out for the start of the new term in January. This includes Harry, who has a shared History of Magic class with Ravenclaw before heading to Care of Magical Creatures.

What awaits the Gryffindors and Slytherins is not another Blast-Ended Skrewt lesson by Hagrid, but instead a class on Unicorns by an elderly woman named Grubbly-Plank. She informs them that Hagrid's been ruled unfit to teach, which confuses some. That is until today's class nears its end and Nott openly reads a defamatory article by Rita Skeeter. In it she reveals that Hagrid's a half-Giant, and words the article to portray him as a grave danger to the school and its students.

But what truly upsets Harry are the numerous quotes from 'suffering students' in Hagrid's class. Malfoy and Nott seem to have given Rita much to write about with regards to Hippogriff attacks, Flobberworm bites, Skrewt injuries, etc. Once the bell rings, Harry's stopped just short of attacking the cackling boys by Pansy and Millicent.

"Just leave it, nothing we can do now," says Millicent, while watching Nott's handful antagonize Harry as they walk up the grassy slopes.

"No offense, Harry, but I think Grubbly-Plank's a better teacher than your friend. And I just so adore those unicorns, they're beautiful," says Pansy rather softly, before swiftly adding: "However, Nott and the other boys are still arseholes for what they did."

"I wonder how the hell Rita found out? I mean, I've seen her around the castle at times but... it doesn't make sense. Does she have an Invisibility Cloak? Or perhaps she's using a Disillusionment Charm?" asks Harry.

"No sense in wondering about that now," replies Tracey. "Let's focus on finding a way to get you ready for the second task."

Even though Charms comes after Monday's lunch break, Harry knows that Flitwick cannot offer any help. Therefore, with the fourth class being free for the Slytherin fourth-years, Harry sends Daphne and Pansy to the library.

"See if you girls can find anything on the Bubble-Head Charm," he says, while whispering in the corridor outside Charms. "But don't ask Madam Pince, in case the staff already know what the task is about."

"Yes, sir, we shall be off to the library for Your Majesty," replies Daphne cheekily, before the two girls make their way to begin their search. So engrossed is Harry in preparing for February the 24th that he hardly cares about this Saturday's match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. To minimize suspicion, Harry rather heads towards Hagrid's cabin, though it appears that he's not answering.

Tuesday (the 5th of January) sees Harry enjoying yet another Defence Against the Dark Arts class, where Moody seems to be rigorously going through defensive spells. But try as they might, hardly anyone in the class can produce a shield charm half as good as Harry's. A feat that Tracey torments the other boys with whenever whispers regarding Hagrid are passed around.

"Missing the elephant man?" asks Malfoy to an annoyed Harry.

"Missing a shield charm?" retorts Tracey.

Before lunch, Moody calls Harry aside as the rest of the class exits the room. Officially, Harry's finished his 'remedial sessions' in early December, and therefore the other boys eye him suspiciously now.

"What are you staring at, Nott? Can't a Professor talk to their students?" Moody practically chases Nott, Malfoy and the rest out from the class, to which they sneer at Harry.

"Don't tell me you're breaking the rules by asking for help in the Tournament?" Malfoy narrows his eyes. "You're going to get yourself disqualified like that, which would be a shame to Slytherin House."

"Get out already," retorts Harry, who resumes speaking once the class and corridor outside are clear.

After hearing Harry's explanations (in which Fleur's bit of help is omitted) Moody smiles. "Figured that egg out already, hmm? Good."

"If I may ask, why all the help, sir? You don't seem to be helping Johnson at all?"

"You know, Dumbledore's hardly asked directly but I know he'd expect me to keep you safe, Potter. Whoever put you in this Tournament probably wants you to quit or die, and the first option leads to breaching the Goblet's contract. I'm certainly not going to say what happens then. So, any ideas on how you're going to survive for that hour?" Moody stands beside his desk while leaning on his staff.

"I've been thinking of the Bubble-Head Charm, but another Champion's already decided to use it. I can't arouse suspicion again with similar tactics to her."

"You do know what lives in that lake, right?"

"Professor Lupin mentioned creatures such as Grindylows living down there. Then there's the Merpeople who are playing some part in the task as well."

"Exactly, and I'm sure you're aware that Grindylows can attack and slice through things... namely a bubble around one's head. It's a good charm, don't get me wrong, but what would you say?"

Harry pauses for some thought before looking at Moody and responding, "Plan B I guess. Might as well look for something else to rely on."

"You're a clever lad, and your efforts against the Horntail as well as in classes have proven that. So let me make things reasonable enough for you:  _Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean_. Go find it in the library."

"Just like that?" Harry's mouth falls open as he gawks at the nodding Moody. "Shouldn't this Tournament test its competitors a bit?"

"Forget the rules, like I said: you're a proven lad. No sense in sitting around stressing over something as simple as breathing underwater. So browse through that book until you find something that might work."

"Thanks a lot, sir!" Harry all but races off towards the library to find the book mentioned by Moody. The amount of help he's sought out thus far might've brought a sense of guilt to others, but not him. He'll do whatever it takes to succeed in this Tournament, and others have begun to notice this indeed.

Once in the library, Harry decides to inquire about the book in question from Madam Pince, who glances quizzically at him from behind her desk.

"Haven't had a fourth year ask about this topic all year long, not asking for help in the Tournament are we?"

"I'm only asking my librarian to direct me to a book. So I don't see how that constitutes asking for help about the Tournament."

"You might think to have figured out your clue, but how do you just so happen to know the exact name of the book in question?"

Everything about this woman seems to be a shade of dark brown or black. From her robes to her pointed hat, hair, eyes, and even lipstick, Harry feels a slight shiver down his spine as Madam Pince remains staring him down.

"Well, I stumbled across that name while going through some shop catalogues, thought there might be something interesting in it." Harry breathes a slight sigh of relief as Madam Pince simply stands up to lead him through the library. Whether she believes his lie or not matters little to him now. They soon walk past Hermione and Krum seated fairly close at a desk.

"I hope you are not assisting him with the Tournament, Miss Granger," says Madam Pince firmly, which elicits a shake of the head by Hermione.

"He's helping me with my coursework, since he is a few years ahead after all." She then spots Harry, whose expression suggests that he's not believing this for one second.

"Hmph, carry on then." Madam Pince now continues to walk down the aisle. "This way for that book you're seeking, Potter."

"What book?" whispers Hermione, who (in addition to Krum) seems to be looking suspiciously at Harry once he hurries off after Madam Pince. They soon reach a rear section of the library where she withdraws the exact book requested by Harry.

"Sit down and don't you dare put a single blemish on my book, understand?" Madam Pince quite reluctantly hands over the Herbology book.

"Y-Yes, ma'am! I'll put it right back to where it was."

With the librarian soon out of sight in the huge, labyrinthine library, Harry carefully opens up the book before browsing its table of contents. Footsteps then come from around the corner ahead as Hermione approaches. This causes Harry to hurriedly shut, and cover up,  _Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean_.

"Why don't you go and sit with your Krum?"

"What book have you sought out, Harry? It's not that often that you come here alone." Hermione folds her arms while walking towards the desk.

"Champions are not allowed to discuss the tasks with anyone but themselves."

"Oh, how convenient then... considering how you so clearly conspired with your Yule Ball date. What? Had you two paired up in exchange for information? Teach her to fly... for a kiss maybe?"

"Are you saying I'm not good enough to get Fleur without bribery?" Harry's expression turns to an offended scowl.

"No, that's not what I'm say—"

"Go away, just go. I know you're here to spy for Krum."

"That's absurd. Viktor already has a plan for the second task."

"His plan or yours?"

A familiar sigh comes from Hermione as she places her hands on her hips while looking at Harry. "Here we go yet again..."

"How about you 'go yet again' back to your  _Viktor_? Idiot can't even say your name properly."

"And neither can Fleur say yours."

"Hers is just an accent thing, but it's still saying 'Harry'. Your Krum totally gets it wrong... like a troll.  _Herm-oh-ninny_? Are you bloody kidding me?"

"Whatever, fact is that I'm scared for you, Harry. I'm scared that something's going to happen to you in this Tournament."

"Ha-ha... what? The Bulgarian teaching you some kinda Divination predictive senses now? Trelawney wasn't good enough but Krum is?"

"Stop acting like a child again. If I had a Sickle every time you do..."

"Piss off and let me read my book in peace and quiet already! Oh, I see, distracting me from preparing so Krum can get a one-up on me, eh?"

"You're the one who's making a big deal out of nothing." Hermione groans before sighing. "My God, when will you  _ever_  grow up?"

"Take your arse out of here, I believe Krum's lap is missing it now."

"I do not sit on his lap! Look, I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what book you're reading. Viktor's already prepared, and besides, he's not looking to copy anybody. I just want to help make sure nothing happens to you."

"Oh really? And why should I trust you now, Granger?"

"Is this going to go on all lunch hour or what? Have you even eaten anything yet?" She now walks right up to the table before placing her hands on Harry's bag covering the  _Magical Water Plants_  book.

"Get your friggin hands off my bag and let me read in peace." Harry leans to guard his bag before Hermione bends over and brings her face right up to his.

"How about 'no'? Come on, I'm willing to help both of you succeed in this task."

"Don't touch me and don't touch my bag!" He shakes his head in protest, much like a child might do in primary school.

"Fifteen minutes until it's Potions, Harry. I suggest you open your book and read."

"And I suggest that you go put your yourself on Krum's lap since you like him so much. Ride up and down for all I care, hmph."

"Aha!" Hermione gently smacks Harry on the head. "So you really and truly are jealous after all. Viktor's not like that, he's a nice guy."

"Nice?" Harry forces himself to withhold telling Hermione about Angelina's secretive plans. "Sure, I'm certain that he's not planning anything."

"I think you've wasted enough time here already. Let me help you."

Even though Hermione's hands feel quite soothing as she rubs his back, Harry shakes his head again. "So I guess me teaching you how to handle a broom last year wasn't enough, huh? Now you're nicely flying on Krum's 'broomstick'?"

"What an overactive imagination from an immature boy. Is your body here but your mind still stuck in first year?" Hermione sniggers with a laugh at her own words.

"And for the record, Fleur's lips are so soft and lovely. She's also got a great body especially with those hips that really move when she dances!" declares Harry quite defensively as Hermione now stands confused.

"What? Where did that come from? Are you alright upstairs?"

The bell soon rings, causing many students to pack their things and leave the library. And after a few minutes of begging, Harry manages to convince Madam Pince to let him borrow the book until this weekend.

"Hope you're bloody happy," he states to Hermione, as they exit the library. "Here, if it'll shut you up then take a look.  _Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean_. But if I catch Krum using whatever I'm planning to do, then I'll know you went running to him."

"I've tried to be nice and patient but you're just far too stubborn to take my help. Fine, sort yourself out but don't come crying back to me if you're stuck!" Hermione groans before hurrying ahead to Potions, while Harry scoffs as he walks. Both students soon glare at each other upon entering their next class, to which Snape practically threatens them to their seats.

"What the hell's going on between you and Granger again?" asks Pansy, once Harry's taken his seat opposite her. "Like damn husband and wife or something."

Grumbling under his breath, Harry simply keeps low and gets through today's class without incident. Much of the week seems to pass by in such a manner, with the notable exception of Harry beaming upon reading up on Gillyweed.

"Perfect!" he declares loudly in the fourth-year girls' dormitory.

"If that ain't locked up in Professor Snape's storage then we can grab some from class...maybe?" asks Sally-Anne, to which Harry fervently nods in agreement

"So, you're already sorted for the task?" Pansy leaps atop her bed before rolling over and looking up at the ceiling. "Nothing more to worry about since our Potter boy knows how to fight. Whatever's waiting for you in the lake's gonna get their arses kicked, right?"

"I guess, but now's the time to double up on my Plan B practice. 'B' for Bubble-Head Charm, just in case the Gillyweed doesn't end up fool-proof."

For once, Harry decides against attending a Quidditch match as Hufflepuff plays Ravenclaw on Saturday the 9th. Instead, he spends the time in yet another empty classroom with Pansy and Daphne. The rest of the girls more keen on watching the teams play this morning. Since they've finally managed to find a book containing information on the charm, Pansy and Daphne waste little time in sharing this with Harry.

"It's actually quite simple to do, just takes effort to maintain. Ah, there's the tricky part I see," he says, while reading through the bits of notes scribbled down on a parchment by Daphne. "By the way, I like your handwriting. Always was so neat, Daffy girl."

"Ahem, let's leave the playfulness and get on with the task," says Pansy firmly, causing Harry to try out the charm for at least the next hour. At best, he manages to form a bubble covering the top-half of his head.

"Well this ain't very useful underwater..." he says, before Daphne can't help but laugh at him.

"It's cute I must say, Mister Bubble Man. Don't stress your arse over it, there are still many days left until near the end of Feb."

From the sounds of things as the trio rejoin their peers for lunch, it seems Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw have played a remarkably tight game today.

"Too tight though," says Millicent at the Slytherin table. "Was about 90 - 50 to Ravenclaw before Diggory caught the Snitch."

"Then that makes it 200 - 90 at the end. So Hufflepuff's got 400 while Ravenclaw ends on 300. It really is between Gryffindor and us this time," admits Harry.

"Yeah, they're what...440 right? And we're 340 so let's hope they don't score too many goals. A one-hundred gap headstart in the match means our team's gotta keep it closed. What if you Seekers spot the Snitch early?" asks Pansy, while looking at Harry.

"Damn, hope they don't go five goals or more up on us. Mister W better be on top form..."

Between keeping up with schoolwork, preparing for the second task and his Quidditch match, as well as clandestine meetings with Fleur in empty classrooms, Harry's certainly busy as January moves on. It helps that Fleur seems just as stressed as he is, for they're both all over each other on the desks and floor.

"I will wait for you to get older, as I 'ave said, before doing ze real zing. But we cannot let ze lovely young man 'ave no pleasure now can we? Because 'e is so generously making me feel good."

"Your hands are quite soft and lovely."

"Exactly, my leetle 'Arry, exactly..."

Around the 16th of January, (third-year and above) students flock to Hogsmeade for the second trip of the year. For once, Harry goes undisguised just to see the reception, and he's certainly swarmed by a variety of witches and wizards of all ages.

"Potter!" calls Moody, while hurrying down the High Street towards Harry and a most amused Fleur. The Professor seems to be well-known, as many a witch or wizard step back and carry on with whatever they're doing upon Moody's approach.

"Professor Moody? I didn't expect to see you out here now. Thought you might be getting a drink somewhere? Or taking one from your flask?"

"That wasn't a very smart thing to do now, laddie. Putting yourself out in public like this is the last thing _you_ should be doing. Have you forgotten about the many followers of the Dark Lord still out here? And I'm not talking specifically about Death Eaters."

"Nothing will 'appen to 'Arry so long as I am with 'im. So 'e is safe with me," declares Fleur quite firmly as she stands up straight.

"You're almost an easier target than he is."

"What? Zat is not true at all!"

Moody seemingly ignores Fleur's protests as he continues to advise Harry on keeping a low profile, much like Lupin's said he's done last year. "Act like Sirius Black is still a wanted man coming after you out here. No offense, but your part-veela lass seems to be doubling your unwanted attention."

" _Vous vous trompez_!"

"Relax, Fleur—"

"'E is mistaken, I am not causing you any 'arm out 'ere, 'Arry."

"Do yourself a favour and get inside somewhere, both of you. Go buy some drinks or something, and make sure you check for poisons or choke hazards." Moody now walks down the street, checks around for potential threats, then makes his way to the Three Broomsticks.

"Zat man works on my nerves, 'e is such a mental person indeed."

"He's got some good points even if paranoid. I'd love to take you to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop but..." Harry now looks almost apologetically at Fleur, as they continue walking down the road.

After pulling Harry's hoodie over his head, Fleur gives him a reassuring smile. "You are still worried about everything, I understand."

"Puddifoot's would've been so lovely. But since it's all about image there I wouldn't be allowed to cover up with a hood like this. Darn it, I wish there was somewhere to take you... Gladrags?"

Surprisingly, Fleur shakes her head. "You do not need to buy me clothes to impress me, 'Arry. Besides, zat Moody man seems to 'ave taken a big interest in keeping you safe. So let us go to ze Three Broomsteeks now."

"That's not exactly a very romantic place..."

"Ze place does not matter. Come." Fleur grabs a sighing Harry by the hand before leading him all the way into the Three Broomsticks pub. It's certainly filled on another freezing January's day as the pair enter the heated room. After briefly checking, and failing, to spot Hagrid here, Harry decides to walk up to the bar. But along the way, he hears someone call out to him from his left.

"It's about time you got here... or is your girlfriend holding you up these days?"

"'Arry, eet is your friend!" says Fleur, who hastily taps him on the shoulder as Harry turns left to look at...

"Sirius!"

He now practically races to greet his godfather, who's sitting at a table with a laughing Madam Rosmerta standing beside him. The latter having brought over a few butterbeers and some cake that Sirius has ordered. As Harry hugs his godfather, Fleur takes a seat and smiles while Madam Rosmerta sets the table.

"Very cute, Sirius, now let's hope you don't turn him into yet another troublemaker around here," she says, then catches Harry staring at her chest for a brief while. "Great, he's already being influenced."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, my dear Rosmerta, Harry's just Harry."

"'E is a very naughty boy I must say." Fleur's statement has Harry and Sirius seeing Madam Rosmerta nodding in agreement.

"Here you go, two butterbeers and a slice of cake for each of you." She then walks away to attend to other patrons while Harry expresses surprise at being served so swiftly.

"Fleur and I haven't even ordered yet. How'd you know we were coming?"

"Mad-Eye passed by a few minutes ago, he's sitting in the far corner of the room. His usual spot," says Sirius casually. "Probably ready to hex the next Dark wizard who tries to attack."

"So, something tells me zat you two are maybe more zan just friends?" Fleur turns to look at Sirius as she eats her cake. "I remember you from ze newspapers and ze World Cup and after ze first task with 'Arry."

"Well..." Sirius lowers his voice. "He's my godson, and you've made a good choice of boyfriend indeed."

"So 'e does 'ave family now?" Fleur leans over to hug Harry, even though the latter's mouth is full of cake. "O', zat is very sweet to know! My leetle 'Arry is not so alone in zis beeg bad world after all."

After swallowing his mouthful and being laughed at by his godfather, Harry tilts his nose in the air.

"Hmph, well I do have Muggle family still left."

"But zey are useless in our world, yes."

" _Leetle Harry_?" asks Sirius, who's still laughing. "Is that your new nickname?"

Sighing with his head in hands, Harry replies, "Don't you start calling me that now. If I had a Sickle every time Fleur says it..."

"Do not act as if you do not like eet, Meester. Now finish your cake and butterbeer."

Fleur, Sirius, and Harry, talk for a good few minutes before an unexpected face turns up at the table. A rather excited Ludo Bagman now seems to have left a most menacing group of goblins before approaching Harry.

"What do you want with him?" asks Sirius, before Bagman spots Fleur and seems to be pausing for thought.

"Well, I was wondering if we could discuss your big match against Gryffindor in two weeks time, Harry? Care to join me for a quick drink at the Hog's Head?" he whispers.

"Why not talk to him right here?" asks Sirius suspiciously. "And what's with that nasty group of goblins, hmm?"

"Nevermind them, just some acquaintances..."

"'Arry, eef Bagman wants to talk Quidditch zen I will come with."

"Count me in as well," adds Sirius, while Harry spots a slight look of hesitation on Bagman's part. "Why don't we all head over to the Hog's Head, if you're so worried about privacy, Mr. Bagman?"

"Uh, because I'm trying to discuss some neat tactics that'll help Harry's team. Aren't those Gryffindor players sitting over there talking to Rosmerta? Four's too big a crowd not to draw attention. Come on, Harry. I can give you pro Beater tips to discuss with... Derrick and Bole, yeah."

"If anything happens to him..." warns Sirius.

"Look, take this as a sign of good faith." Bagman places a sack of about 30 Galleons before Sirius. "I'll bring Harry back in no time and you can keep them coins hostage so long."

"I don't want your money."

"It's alright, Sirius. Gryffindor's planning something  _big_  which I'd rather keep secret. Bagman will give some much-needed advice on dealing with them in the final," says Harry.

"Alright but come back as soon as possible. Take too long and I'll come looking," replies Sirius, while Fleur seems to be eyeing Harry and Bagman quite thoughtfully.

"Relax, good sir, we won't be too long. This way, Harry, let's make sure you don't embarrass yourself on the Quidditch Pitch before such a big crowd."

Both Bagman and Harry now hurriedly make their way out from the Three Broomsticks before heading off the High Street towards a shadier inn. Once inside, Bagman has Harry take a seat at a corner table before ordering one small butterbeer for each of them. He then swiftly returns before pulling out parchment, ink, and quill.

"Right, let's get to business..."

"Have you really heard about what Gryffindor's got planned? How in the world did you find out?" asks Harry, who tries to ignore the smell of goat in this dodgy place.

"Plan? What could a _school_ team possibly be planning? No, kid, that was just a convenient excuse to get you here without your Triwizard rival, Delacour. How much are you willing to pay to discuss the second task, hmm?"

Harry narrows his eyes and folds his arms while leaning back in his chair. "Why are you so invested in having _me_  succeed in this Tournament?"

The look on Bagman's face suggests that he's feeling quite uncomfortable here. "You're the underdog, Harry, and a famous one at that."

"Really? Because it sounds like you're more interested in seeing me actually win than just survive...hmm..."

"Okay!" Bagman puts his head in his hands. "Okay, you've got me good, lad. I should've known a Slytherin like you would be this observant. You're right, I do want you to win this. But that's only because I owe a ton of coin to lots of people out there... including those Goblins at the Three Broomsticks. Nasty things indeed. But they're not the only people I've been betting with—"

"Sounds like you need to get your gambling problem sorted out already. Let me guess: you're betting a lot on me winning, right?"

Nodding quite fervently, Bagman now dips his quill. "We can both benefit from this, Harry. 1000 Galleons and eternal glory for you, and winning coin from the goblins for me."

"Well alright..." Harry rubs his hands gleefully together. "50 Galleons sound okay?"

"60 and I give more info, 80 for everything. 120 and I add a hint on the Third Task too, the final one, mind you."

"One-twenty it is," says Harry, to which Bagman grins excitedly while starting a sketch. "And I've already deciphered the egg about underwater stuff, even have a plan to breathe."

"You're a sharp one! Right, here's a rough drawing of the lake..." Bagman seems to have drawn what Harry reckons could be a top-down view of Hogwarts' lake. "We'll be sending you Champions in from this bank over here, while we judges take a seat at the table over there... The crowd will be in these stands here... unfortunately they won't be able to see what happens down there, such a shame."

While watching the rough sketch unfold, Harry snorts with a laugh. "They're just going to stare at the water for an hour?"

"I guess the suspense and bets will keep 'em happy enough. Plus, you Champions can always go and spin exciting tales of the lake to your adoring fans." Bagman seems to have finished sketching five dots between a collection of squares.

"What's all that?"

"Ah, now you see over here, on this far side of the lake, but not too close to the other bank, we have the Merpeople's village. These squares are like houses, or so I've been told by Professor Dumbledore. Each of you Champions will have to rescue someone you hold dear, and they'll be tied up quite securely to whatever's down here. Hope you know a safe way to cut through thick ropes without asking the Merpeople for help."

"Hide that thing, someone's coming behind you." Harry has Bagman expertly conceal the parchment before an elderly barman comes to bring their butterbeers. Once the latter's returned to his bar, Bagman unfolds the parchment once more.

"Whew, that was close. Anyway, here's the important part: see all these bits of scribble I'm doing? They're just some of where I think the Grindylows will be made to ambush you Champions. Visibility is very poor underwater, and so you'll need to keep on the lookout for weeds or anything else that can conceal them. That's about all I can give, oh, as for the third task... there's a reason why your Quidditch season is so condensed this year. Let's just say we'll be using it to grow a maze from start of Feb. There'll be a variety of dangerous creatures in there such as Dementors, those Skrewt things from Hagrid, Acromantulas, you name it..."

"But what if someone already gets a complete winning leap from the second task? What's the point of a third one if there's a total point tally running now anyway?"

"80 Galleons and I'll give you the info, you're a rich kid, aren't you?" Bagman smiles in a manner that Harry sees as being quite desperate.

"Alright, whew, 80 from the first, 120 from the second, and 80 from the last. You've made 280 Galleons selling me info."

"Welcome to the real word, lad, it's not all sunshine and roses out here. Well that oughta pay back some people, still not nearly enough to settle everything though."

"Just how indebted are you really?"

"You don't want to know." Bagman laughs rather nervously before continuing. "Anyway... you Champions will enter the maze in accordance to the total points after the second task. That's the whole idea of racking up points now, to get in early means a headstart. You already know that it's the Triwizard  _Cup_  and not a League."

"Cool, I'll send a note to withdraw the coins from my vault, since you don't want a cheque."

"280 In a sack with a feather-light charm ought to do the trick. We'll meet up in the school's owlery on Friday evening."

Bagman soon folds up the parchment before handing it over for Harry to later peruse. They now hurriedly finish their drinks before returning to the Three Broomsticks, where Harry fakes a story of Bagman giving him tactical Quidditch advice. Fleur and Sirius seem to believe it as Harry spends the next few minutes in silence before none other than Rita Skeeter shows up.

From what Harry can overhear as she walks down the aisles, it appears that Rita's quite suspicious about Bagman and the goblins who've recently exited the pub. Fleur scoffs rather loudly which catches Rita's attention, causing the latter to approach Harry with a smile.

"Why don't you piss off and ruin someone else's life instead?" He speaks in a raised tone that has Sirius quite surprised. "What did Hagrid do to deserve that article? Who cares if he's half-giant?"

"Come now, Harry, let's not have you uncharacteristically losing your temper," says Rita with a smile, as she stands beside the table of three with her photographer, Bozo.

In a most timely manner, Hermione steps out from the nearby crowd to accost Rita of Hagrid's article as well. But Harry, who remains fairly bitter since she wasted his time in the library, soon turns to her.

"I don't need your help, Hermione. Why don't you go back to your precious  _Viktor Krum_?"

"'Arry, per'aps you should be calming down with your friend..." Fleur's words go unnoticed as Rita seems to look gleefully from Harry to Hermione before clapping her hands.

"Brilliant! Let's go, Bozo, I have an idea for an absolutely  _wonderful_  article before the end of the month."

With Rita and her photographer having hurriedly exited the pub, Sirius shakes his head at the slightly confused Harry.

"I think I know exactly what that woman's going to write about, bad words, Harry."

After giving Harry a hurtful glare, Hermione turns around before storming back to her table with Ron, Dean, and Seamus.

"This is all because of Viktor Krum!" declares Harry, while banging his fist on the table before Sirius calms him down.

By late evening after dinner, Harry stretches out as he prepares to climb into his bed. But one look at the yawning Pansy nearby suddenly reminds him of something.

"Pansy."

"That's my name, don't wear it out."

"Ha,ha,ha... anyway, so I know you're a big fan of Rita Skeeter. But do me a favour and don't answer any questions about Hermione, understand?"

"The hell?"

" _Understand_?"

"Yes, okay, no need to get your knickers in a twist! You heard that, girls? Potter baby wants us acting ignorant when it comes to Granger."

Much of Harry's week is spent trying to stifle his sudden growing resentment of Viktor Krum. But try as Harry might, he can't help but imagine a most delighted Hermione slipping on a wedding ring in Bulgaria. Then, the image of little bushy-haired first-year Durmstrangs creep up in his imagination. Such thoughts now tend to pervade his mind on more than one occasion in class, causing a distraction even in Charms.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Potter?" asks Professor Flitwick on Tuesday afternoon.

"I'm fine sir," he answers, before spending the rest of the period daydreaming about however a Durmstrang class might look.

 _"Vell done, child. You are as clever as your mother is!"_  He imagines Viktor Krum as saying, to however a child between him and Hermione might look like. Then, Harry suddenly blurts out a swearword rhyming with 'duck'.

Gasping, Flitwick (and much of the class) turns to look at the confused Harry.

"Mister Potter! Five points from Slytherin for such vulgar language in class. That is not the answer I was looking for with regards to the Banishing Charm's incantation."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" whispers Pansy, while kicking Harry beneath the table. She then turns to answer Flitwick's question. " _Depulso_ , sir. I think everyone here knows that already."

"Well done, Miss Parkinson, a point to Slytherin."

Once class has finished, Harry angrily exits to try and calm himself down in the middle courtyard. But just as he stares out the cloister overlooking the snowy grass, he spots Hermione happily walking beside Krum. No imagination here as it's well and truly them enjoying each other's company. Sighing in frustration, Harry bangs his fist against the stony wall.

"Motherf—" His cussing is interrupted by a most unexpected voice from behind, as Harry continues to watch Hermione laughing with Krum.

"Then do something about it and stop crying over the talented Quidditch player stealing your Muggleborn friend, Potter."

Harry spins around just in time to see Professor Snape pausing to observe him.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Are you deaf? I said stop whining and do something about your plight." Snape now walks away while muttering, "At least  _you_  can..."

Wondering how in the world he's just gotten input from Snape of all people here, Harry now feels more confused than ever. But one thing's for certain: he's willing to do whatever it takes come the big match in over a week's time.

 


	32. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin

The final week of January has arrived, and Harry finds himself returning last from an intense session of Quidditch practice on Thursday evening. Although Oliver Wood has not been able to visit the school to join in, Marcus Flint knows him well enough to simply slot him in on matchday. The partnership between Adrian Pucey and Yasmin Shafiq also seems refreshingly different from the tactics used when it's merely Flint and the big boys.

Harry walks alone up the slopes, with Map in hand while keeping vigilant, before concealing it upon reaching the castle's front double doors. The entrance hall seems empty at this hour as 7pm seems minutes away.

"What are you doing, wandering around this late, Harry?" asks Professor Dumbledore, standing on the marble staircase while Harry stops in the entrance hall to look up at him.

"I had to stay a bit longer to get cleaned up after Quidditch practice, sir," he replies, wondering why such a conversation feels so déjà vu in a sense.

"Well, hurry off to bed," says Dumbledore, giving Harry the kind of penetrating stare the latter's quite accustomed to. "Best for you not to roam the corridors at this hour these days, especially since we don't know why you're in the Tournament."

But before Harry can exit the hall to descend to the dungeons, he sees Dumbledore giving a knowing smile which makes the former feel uneasy.

"I take it you're quite prepared for the next task? Been doing your... preparations?"

Harry's heart sinks as he bites his lip while furrowing his forehead, seemingly doing some serious thinking. The manner in which Dumbledore seems to be looking at him suggests that he knows something. But how could the Headmaster guess at Harry's secretive activities? Now the latter wonders if it's possible that his meeting with Ludo Bagman has somehow been told to Dumbledore.

"Think about our little conversation now, Harry, the manner in which it's transpired." Dumbledore gives him another smile. "Have a good night's sleep."

Once down in the dungeons, Harry indeed pauses for some thought before entering the common room. Then it comes to mind: he recalls seeing a vastly similar (barring the topic of Quidditch and the Tournament) conversation back in Tom Marvolo Riddle's diary. A scene showed to him by the diary makes Harry recall Tom being called by a then younger Dumbledore on the marble staircase.

Could the Headmaster really be aware of his meeting with Bagman in the Hog's Head? Is he cryptically letting Harry know that his actions (blatant deception) are similar to Tom's by staging such a similar conversation as back then? But Harry firmly assures himself that he's absolutely nothing like Tom, and that whenever they meet, he will be the one to kill the Dark Lord. Dark thoughts aside, he spends the double free period on Friday morning practicing the Bubble-Head charm in an empty classroom.

"Always the empty classrooms, you should become Professor Empty Classroom," says Pansy, who's accompanied by Millicent this time.

"I'm pretty sure he's even more knowledgeable about them since meeting up with Fleur, right?" asks Millicent. "What exactly do you guys do in your private meetings?"

"Yes! Give us the  _juicy_ info right here, right now," says Pansy eagerly. "Have you been laid yet?"

"What?" Harry gawks at her. "Why do you keep on asking that?"

Millicent nudges Harry in the side. "Pansy's gonna be the type of woman that likes seeing her man getting it on with someone else. What? No response?"

"Let's carry on with the Charm already," replies Pansy, whose reddened cheeks betray her indifference towards Millicent's remark.

"What if I 'get busy' with you  _and_  someone else at the same time one day, hmm?" asks Harry cheekily, to which Pansy gives him a guilty grin in response.

At double Potions after lunch hour, he makes it a point to whisper in an upset Hermione's ear once class ends.

"Hope you're happy with your famous, talented, oh-so-perfect boyfriend. But I guess I'll never be as good as Viktor Krum in your eyes..."

Before she can respond, Harry swiftly leaves in the company of his girls as they spend the next few hours practicing various spells together. With the final Quidditch match of the year coming up, the hype is certainly real as it's the big decider of the Cup. Although nobody knows about both teams' hidden plans for tomorrow, there's still a great sense of anticipation. Eight o'clock means bedtime on Friday evening as Harry and the team calls it an early night to ensure they're thoroughly prepared.

Saturday arrives with a wave of euphoria and noise in the common room as Harry sees Marcus Flint giving his final pre-match talk to his fellow Housemates. He, Derrick, and Bole, are set (and thoroughly confident) to graduate at the end of this year. But Harry's truly grown attached to some of his Quidditch Team, even if he's reluctant to admit it to Flint.

"Yeah, yeah, let's not get all teary-eyed around here. There's still many months until end of June but today I wanna hear this crowd go wild. And to the anti-Harry minority, I say get stuffed!" says Flint, earning a loud round of applause from essentially the entire common room this morning. While Irma Flint certainly refuses to admit that she'll miss her brother's common room hype, Harry can tell that she will indeed.

Peregrine Derrick, as tall and bold as ever, raises his arm alongside Lucian Bole. Together, they start their  _Slytherin for the Cup_  chants which soon echo throughout the common room and into the dungeon corridors. Many dozens of Slytherins march up towards the entrance hall with the team leading the way. Flint, Derrick, Bole, Yasmin, Pucey, Harry, and Bletchley (even though he's secretly not playing) now walk ahead of their supporters.

They soon climb the staircase before walking through the entrance hall to enter the lively Great Hall. It's always a vibrant atmosphere on any Quidditch day but often increased when Gryffindor plays Slytherin. Two Houses not only with much antagonism towards each other but, in this year, faced with rivalling Champions as well.

"A toast!" declares Marcus Flint, while later standing up in the centre of the Slytherin table. "To our fourth Quidditch Cup in a row."

Cheers and whistles echo throughout the table, though Harry seizes the opportunity to eye the Durmstrangs seated farther down the table. They certainly appear smug while believing that the Slytherin Quidditch Team are unaware of Stangeland, Zaytsev, and Krum, coming on against Flint's side. Harry then briefly glances towards the Gryffindor Quidditch team seated at their House table far to the left.

He notes the sly smiles by Angelina, Spinnet, Bell, and McLaggen as they finish their meals. Meanwhile, Fred, George, and Ginny seem to be eating their meals in relative silence while secretly smiling at Harry. Sitting beside him is Fleur to his left, who's also unaware of Durmstrang's involvement in the game.

"I do 'ope you will 'ave a good match against ze Gryffindor today." She grins as Harry butters her some toast before adding a layer of raspberry jam. "Vairy kind of you."

"Think I'll take some of these with because my nerves are too much now," says Harry, loud enough for others to hear. This provides an opportunity for him to wrap three sandwiches and some eggs, which he now carries all the way to the Slytherin Locker room by himself. Upon his arrival, Harry hears footsteps coming from the tunnel.

"...I do wish Puddlemere United a good season ahead. Ah, Harry would've brought you something to eat now. Enjoy the match today, I'm sure everyone in the stands certainly will," says Dumbledore, who soon rounds the corner to let Oliver Wood in. With a nod and a smile, the Headmaster returns to the castle.

"Well well, never thought I'd ever be in  _this_ locker room. Mind you, I still prefer the one across the field," greets the Ex-Gryffindor Captain who happily shakes Harry's hand. "Hope you understand if I don't wear those robes of green?"

"No problem at all, we've got you some black ones instead." Harry opens his locker to retrieve the set. "Man, this is going to be an even bigger surprise than what Johnson's got in store for us."

Oliver takes his seat on one of the wooden benches before withdrawing a cup from his bag. After conjuring up some water to drink, he starts on the sandwiches and eggs.

"Sometimes a Captain, or any big player, has got to do what's right for their old team. There'll definitely be a sense of shock and betrayal from my old Housemates but that's irrelevant today." He finishes a sandwich before carrying on lecturing Harry. "I didn't build a team that resorts to such dirty tactics, especially not from Angelina. If it was me I'd at least have the decency to inform you guys, Slytherin or not, about the change."

"You don't have to worry, the Weasleys are still some good ones there."

"Yeah, Fred, George, and Ginny, deserve better than to be left out of such a tremendous game. I mean, how long has it been since Gryffindor played Slytherin in the final match of the year?  _And_  for the Cup?"

Harry lets Oliver finish his breakfast and change to the black Quidditch robes before they carrying on speaking as the Keeper sits down again.

"Must've been years before my time that this last happened." Harry now sighs. "I do feel for Ginny though. She looks more disappointed than the twins for being left out. Was all hyped up to take me on in front of today's massive crowd."

"You know I think she really likes you. The way in which she used to pay attention and look up during my speeches about Slytherin said it all. And the amount of times she'd joke about you being a better Seeker than Malfoy was quite telling."

Harry grins slightly before Oliver carries on speaking.

"Man, I can only imagine the looks on my fellow reserve players' faces if we take down this Viktor Krum Gryffindor team. You're going to give it your best, right?"

"Of course I will, because this... is personal," declares Harry firmly.

"Hermione Granger, right?"

"How'd you—"

"Know? Come on, Harry. It's pretty obvious to those who really pay attention."

"I dunno, it's just that she's the first girl who's ever been nice to me. Hard to let go of that, and even harder with all the other girls out there. Fleur Delacour, Pansy..."

"Worry about that later, right now we gotta focus for the biggest match of the year. Just fly even better than against the dragon and you'll come out on top."

Soon, the rest of the Slytherin squad for today makes their way down the tunnel while the crowd settles into the stands. A growing buzz of excitement can now be heard quite clearly even from the locker rooms.

"Hahaha! Oliver, you old bastard!" greets Flint, as former rivals now shake hands with much respect.

"Is this a girl on your team?  _Your_  team, Marcus?" Oliver looks incredulously at the proud Yasmin. "Times certainly have changed! There hasn't been a girl on team Slytherin since before your Captaincy. And you are..."

"Yasmin Shafiq, Chaser for today." She shakes Oliver's hand. "I think you know the rest of us pretty well already."

"Adrian Pucey, yeah, haven't seen you play since '92. Well, I guess if Angelina's expecting the usual brute force squad she'll be quite surprised today." Oliver seems fairly impressed at today's tactical set-up. "And here's Derrick and Bole, the Beaters who've always been outplayed by Fred and George."

"Always? Not always, man. Today we're gonna prove that Slytherin's better than a bunch of Durmstrangs," says Derrick, while Bole wholeheartedly agrees.

"I wouldn't be surprised if your twin Beaters are actually better than the lot we're up against today."

Adrian seems to nod in agreement, though not without being cautious. "We haven't actually seen them play yet. But there's a good chance those two will be brutal as hell."

"Good," says Flint. "Might be easier to provoke and set them off. Keep us all from getting clobbered and we might even be able to lure them into easy fouls too. More fouls mean more penalties."

"I've practiced enough times against Alicia, Angelina, and Katie, to guess at their shots on goal. Right, let's finalize our tactics, Marcus, show us what you've got." Oliver now takes a seat to face Flint's blackboard.

Harry joins the rest of the team in sitting on the benches while watching Flint start his final overview. Oliver, however, seems to politely interject and change a few tactics at times as the overall strategy is discussed. The interaction between former rivals has Harry watching on in awe, while Flint's tactics are soon fine-tuned by another leader.

Ludo Bagman's commentary soon booms across the stadium, and into the lockers as he welcomes the surprising turnout today. While many people have come to view the final match before the continuation of the Triwizard Tournament, none are aware of today's surprises.

"...and let's have a round of applause for Team Gryffindor entering the pitch first. Here we go, folks, flying out is Captain, Champion, and Chaser Angelina Johnson, followed by Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet. Gryffindor's Chaser squad now hovering in the air. Here's Keeper Cormac McLaggen coming out from the tunnel follo— what in the world?"

By the sounds of the crowd, and Bagman, Harry reckons they're absolutely bewildered to see the Durmstrang players now flying out. Meanwhile, the Slytherin team remains standing in their tunnel while listening to the wave of confusion outside.

"Who's that? Oh... Durmstrang Beaters?" Bagman can be heard checking through some parchment at his desk in the commentary box. "Why are they here... playing for Gryffindor? For real? Well, here we have Ruslan Zaytsev and Halvard Stangeland coming in over Fred and George Weasley. Could that mean..."

"Bloody show-off," mutters Harry, upon hearing the crowd outside giving a collective gasp followed by a sudden silence.

"...BY THE LORD! IT'S VIKTOR KRUM HIMSELF... PLAYING FOR ANGELINA JOHNSON'S SQUAD TODAY! _THE_ VIKTOR KRUM! TRIWIZARD CHAMPION AND BULGARIA'S RISING SUPERSTAR IS OUT FOR SLYTHERIN TODAY. LOOK AT HIM FLYING THAT LAP ON THE FAMOUS RED FIREBOLT!"

As Bagman tries to contain his screaming over the megaphone, the crowd bursts into the loudest cheer Harry's yet heard here. The pro-Krum minority of Slytherin joins up with the rest of the school in roaring their approval, even if it means temporarily cheering for Gryffindor.

"Malfoy and Nott are at it again, influencing their little group of friends," says Flint with a scoff.

"I never understood why you put up with Malfoy," says Oliver, who's standing at the back of the line. "Harry's perfectly able to sponsor Nimbus 2001's as well, like mine."

 _"KRUM! KRUM! KRUM!"_ chants nearly the entire stadium, while most of Slytherin starts chanting Harry's name now. The latter feeling a sense of relief and heated desire to impress his supporters.

"Righto! Team Slytherin, let's have you boys out here for the final of this year's Hogwarts Quidditch Cup. Mister Slytherin Seeker, it's time to come out for the showdown many have been wondering about. Give it up for the House of Serpents, the boys in robes of green!"

Flint steps forward, into the light of a partly cloudy day, first. "Heads up, boys and girl, clear that lion thing out the sky... no offense, Oliver."

"Here they are! Captain and Chaser Marcus Flint leads a different line-up today. Yes, folks, that's a  _girl_  on the Slytherin Quidditch team... at long last! Please welcome Miss Yasmin Shafiq, who's playing alongside the returning Adrian Pucey today. Tactical thinking there, Captain Flint."

The Slytherin crowd now booms with delight for both Yasmin and Flint, before Bagman carries on:

"Lucian Bole, and Peregrine Derrick, are once again playing Beater. Let's see how they fare against their foreign counterparts today." Bagman once again checks through some parchment. "Now it's time to announce a special surprise from team Slytherin!"

Harry and Oliver stand giddy with excitement in the tunnel. While the crowd seems notably confused, the final two Slytherin players are all smiles with each other as Bagman continues to speak.

"Please give the Boy-Who-Lived, and his guest, a round of applause!"

"Let's make history." Harry mounts his Firebolt alongside Oliver, who mounts the Nimbus 2001 gifted by the former. Together, through a growing sense of sheer anticipation in the entire crowd, they fly out the tunnels. Both players soar towards a green lightning bolt glowing high above the centre of the pitch (cast by the Slytherin team, of course). From their view above, Harry and Oliver now spot an absolutely bewildered crowd eyeing them from all sides.

"Guarding the Slytherin goalposts today we have, from Puddlemere United's Reserve Team, Mister... OLIVER WOOD! Gryffindor Ex-Captain by the way."

"Man, look at them all so speechless," mutters Harry, while holding Oliver's arm up high before a shocked crowd of students. Soon, murmurs and pockets of frantic conversation echo across various portions of the stands. Slytherins, Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws alike now gawk at the centre of the pitch.

In the midst of a disorganized mix of noise from both the Gryffindor crowd and team, Harry fires off his Patronus again. This time he lets the snake slither around the lightning bolt before both are eventually dispelled. Cheers of approval now come from his Slytherin supporters in the stands, while Oliver laughs nervously.

"You trying to make a new Dark Mark or something?"

"What? No!" laughs Harry.

But the real action begins once they land between the rest of their team.

"O-OLIVER? IS THIS A GODDAMN JOKE?" shouts Angelina, while Bell and Spinnet are up in arms from disbelief. Even Madam Hooch appears highly surprised, which Harry's hardly seen before.

"What in the world are you doing here? And with  _them_!?" Bell stands beside her Captain before Spinnet takes a few steps forward.

"Is he bewitched? Have they Cursed you or something? What's the meaning of this? Oliver? Where'd you get that new equipment from? Don't tell me you sold yourself out to Slytherin?"

The Ex-Captain now points towards the wide-eyed Angelina before speaking. "I'm neither bewitched, Cursed, nor have I sold myself out, ladies. But, Angelina, I never expected such dirty tactics from you."

"Dirty tactics?"

"Bringing on three Durmstrang players, including  _the_  Viktor Krum, just to try and 'take down' the Slytherins? Or is this about Harry himself?"

The foreign trio simply stand wordless while watching the argument unfold.

"Wait a minute..." Angelina eyes Harry most suspiciously. "You convinced him to show up today, didn't you? Then, that means you must've known about all this.  _Who told you_?" The tone in her voice seems livid indeed, but Harry returns the gesture by simply glaring at her.

"I'll bet it was one of the other three," says Spinnet, in reference to the Weasley trio replaced for today's match. "Someone snitched on us, otherwise there wouldn't be backup here."

"I agree!" Bell shakes her head at Oliver. "Never thought you'd sink this low."

"How funny that I was thinking the exact same thing about my successor over here. Is the Triwizard Tournament really making you this bitter, Angelina? Using Quidditch to get at your fellow Champion?"

"FELLOW?" Angelina's yell now has Madam Hooch warning her to calm down, and Bagman wanting the game to start already. "Harry Potter's done nothing but cheat since day one! Have you even watched the First Task, huh?"

"Yeah he did," says Flint, who now stands smugly beside Oliver. "Pretty impressive stuff, right?"

"Shut up, Flint, I'm talking to a  _former_  teammate and leader," retorts Angelina.

"You don't have solid proof that Harry's cheated at all—"

"What about the Firebolt used by both of them? Which was even left behind for him to summon in his performance!" Angelina glares at every Slytherin player here especially Oliver who jumps to Harry's defence.

"If it was really as bad as you say, he would've been disqualified. I was there in the visitor stands, and the judges all seemed to enjoy both performances."

Harry groans loudly from this persistent argument before stepping forward to face the red-faced Angelina. "Besides, the whole point of the tournament is international magical cooperation. To make friends."

"Ladies and gentlemen, could we please get this match started already? Enough of your bickering!" says an annoyed Madam Hooch, who's already hovering nearby on her broom as Bagman speaks.

"Wow, there's a ton of bad blood down there this morning! Look at Johnson going at Wood and... oh boy there it is... Viktor Krum and Harry Potter are having a bit of a stare-off now, folks. The Bulgarian Star certainly stands taller than the Local Legend. But if the Horntail's any indication then size might not count here today. Ahem, well, the late Dark Lord probably found that out years back, um, anyway..."

Indeed, just as Bagman says, Harry and Krum now stare at each other while the arguments between Gryffindors and Slytherins continue to heat up around them. Flint, Oliver, Yasmin, Adrian, and the Slytherin Beaters all fiercely defend Harry's actions in the Tournament against many an accusation coming from the Gryffindor Chasers and McLaggen.

"Potter's such a cheater, can't any of you see that?" asks McLaggen.

"Don't you talk about our Harry like that!" retorts Yasmin.

"Hey, McLaggen, try to show some respect for better players, please," adds Oliver. "To think you're my replacement in Keeper, pfft..."

"Don't talk to  _my_  players, Oliver!"

Flint snarls at Angelina before speaking. "That Captain's badge gotten to your head already?  _You_  ought to show respect to the man who's built up that team. And you"—Flint points to the scowling Spinnet—"wouldn't have even gotten a chance on the team if he hadn't made the effort."

"I WANT THIS MATCH STARTED IN A MINUTE, UNDERSTAND?" Madam Hooch seems ready to blast her whistle now.

"Why'd you bring these two on?" asks Derrick, while pointing to the frowning Durmstrang Beaters. "Bole and I were hoping to have our last match be against the Weasley pair, not these fools."

"Do not insult my teammates," says Krum sternly, before Harry stands between him and Derrick.

"Nobody asked for your opinion."

Bagman slightly laughs into the megaphone before resuming his commentary. "Great Scott! Are we going to have a Quidditch match today or not? And what's gotten our two talented Seekers so caught up in stares still? I get the feeling there's something other than Quidditch boiling up here today... the Triwizard Tournament, maybe? Well, something  _serious_  is certainly being left unsaid between Viktor Krum and Harry Potter down there."

Back on the centre of the pitch, Krum mutters something in Russian to Zaytsev, who passes the message to a nodding Stangeland.

"Oh crap," whispers Yasmin to a curious Flint. "I know a bit of Russian. Those Beaters will be targeting Harry."

"The hell? Oh no they don't." Flint pretends to remain ignorant of what Krum has muttered, while signalling (behind his back) for Derrick or Bole to prioritize watching Harry.

"Let's see you cheat your way out of this 'task', Potter," says Angelina coldly while Oliver shakes his head. Then, Adrian Pucey speaks.

"What better way for both these great Captains to play their final game at Hogwarts than to teach you a lesson, Johnson?"

A lengthy three second blow of the whistle causes every player to cover their ears as Madam Hooch quells their quarrels.

"ENOUGH! Captains, shake hands already."

Flint and Angelina seem to be trying to break each others' hand in the gesture, to which Oliver can't help but laugh.

"Ah, the good old days. You only truly miss school once it's over..."

His statement is cut short by Madam Hooch. "Mount your brooms and get READY, for God's sake..."

Fourteen brooms now finally rise as the teams await the Quaffle. Out comes the Bludgers which speed off before the Quaffle is hurled upwards by Hooch. Meanwhile, Harry and Krum glare at each other again before heading in opposite directions to begin their search.

"What an interesting match-up we've got here. Slytherin flying six Nimbus 2001's as well as a Firebolt against Gryffindor's three Cleansweep Sevens. Then, the guest Beaters have Nimbus 2001's while Krum sports his own Firebolt. We're in for a cracker of a game today..."

Lack of focus seems out of the question for Harry as he knows that, for the first time ever, he's up against it. Not only is his opponent possibly better than him, but also flying the exact same broom.

"...and do keep in mind that today's Golden Snitch is a world class one indeed. It's nimbler, faster, and trickier than those used at regular school matches. Is Harry Potter prepared to chase after one of these? Let's see what Slytherin's Chaser can do in his main role..."

While flying across one end of the pitch, Harry briefly views the mass of Chasers furiously contesting the Quaffle before Gryffindor breaks forward. Three specks of green soon speed off in pursuit of their rival Chasers. The small dot being passed around lets Harry know the Quaffle's nearing goal.

"...to Bell, to Johnson, Johnson with some neat flying as she goes forward...shoots... SCOR—wait...nope, SAVED by Wood! Acrobatics on display there as the guest Keeper double times it to catch that shot. Quaffle from Wood to Flint, passed to Shafiq as Slytherin builds up their attack down the left flan—"

Bagman's commentary is shut out by Harry who hurriedly ducks to avoid a sudden Bludger. Then, another one comes his way in a matter of minutes which the crowd seems to have noticed.

"Passed to Pucey, Pucey to Shafiq, to Flint...whoa nice throw behind the back as Flint beats McLaggen to the left hoop... SCORES. TEN-ZERO to Slytherin here! Damn, Potter's having a rough time against Stangeland and Zaytsev who refuse to let him search for the Snitch."

"PISS OFF!" yells Harry towards the Durmstrang Beaters, before Derrick and Bole fly in to provide cover.

"Speed away to shake 'em off!" says Bole, to which Harry leans low as he accelerates the Firebolt down the right flank, dodging a Bludger yet again. The second one sent his way soon ends up whacked away by Derrick towards Zaytsev.

"They don't want you searching for the Snitch at all. Are they scared you're going to upstage Viktor Krum?" asks Derrick, who tries to keep up with Harry while deflecting yet another Bludger attempt. So engrossed is Harry at trying to focus on finding the Snitch (while dodging Bludgers) that he barely hears Bagman announce another fine save from Wood.

"...Flint takes possession again, building up his play in the centre, look at the Slytherin Captain go, hahaha!"

His interest piqued, Harry briefly looks over his shoulder to see Flint duck beneath Spinnet, roll away from Johnson, then kick away Bell before taking a shot on goal.

"...lucky SAVE as McLaggen barely gets his fingertips to it, close shave there, lad! Game carries on at Ten-Zero with Gryffindor breaking forward."

"Are they crazy?" asks Bole, who's flying to shield Harry's left. "These Durmstrangs chasing after you leaves the Gryffindors quite exposed."

Indeed, Harry deplores how committed his opposing Beaters are to taking him down, which annoys him since he often enjoys watching the Chasers play too. A few minutes' reprieve has him scanning the skies above for any glimmer of gold while Krum slowly ascends to search.

"...and on the far left of the pitch we have Potter still being actively pursued by the guest Beaters today. They just won't give Viktor Krum's opponent a break today..."

Stangeland and Zaytsev come soaring in from beneath Harry as one sends a Bludger his way. Left he rolls as Harry evades before Bole smashes it towards the Gryffindor Chasers, while Derrick follows up by redirecting it to Angelina.

"—WHAM!— Oh! Lucky she raised her arms as Johnson manages to take that hit. Well, that's what happens when you commit both Beaters to keep the opposition Seeker busy all the time..."

With Angelina momentarily shaking off some pain, Flint and Yasmin easily pick up the Quaffle before doing the Porskoff Ploy move to reach Adrian. With Bell and Spinnet swerving around to give chase, Angelina's moment of being out the action is exploited by the Slytherins.

"...Flint to Pucey, Pucey to Shafiq... she SCORES! First female Slytherin goal in a looooooong time I daresay! TWENTY-ZERO to Slytherin."

"OUCH!"

The crowd gasps for good reason as the Durmstrang Beaters finally outmanoeuvre Bole to get at Harry. The latter now knocked off his broom for about a 15 foot crash to land on his back.

"Damn, some neat flying by Stangeland and Zaytsev as they pull off the Dopplebeater Defence to double that power. Potter knocked right off his broom but, thankfully, lands on grass."

Picking himself up, Harry sighs in relief though he's never quite understood why magical folk tend to be hardier than Muggles. From Bludger shots or Beater bat fouls to the head, to over 20 foot drops when the Keeper's knocked off their broom, witches and wizards just tend to have lighter injuries...mostly. But it still depends on what (and how) they happen to land which, for Harry, seems in his favour today.

"...SCORES! Pucey makes it THIRTY-ZERO to Slytherin as Gryffindor still seeks their first goal of the match..."

One nifty feature of a Firebolt is that it tends to hover after summoned, instead of simply laying on the floor like other brooms. This leaves Harry to start jogging towards where his broom awaits. But along the way he jumps to evade a Bludger which hits the ground with a thud before taking off once again.

Madam Hooch now blows her whistle in the distance while Bagman yells "FOUL!" over the megaphone. Then, another Bludger catches Harry against his right shoulder sending him falling to the left. Loud boos immediately erupt from the Slytherin crowd while the rest of the school seems to find Harry's troubles amusing.

"NEVER SEND A BLUDGER TOWARDS SOMEONE WHO'S OFF THEIR BROOM!" yells Madam Hooch. But the guest Beaters merely offer half-hearted apologies before carrying on. "DOUBLE PENALTY TO SLYTHERIN!"

Adrian takes the first one as he flies from the centre of the pitch towards McLaggen who performs the Double Eight Loop manoeuvre. Harry hurriedly gets back onto his Firebolt just as the shot is saved by a now cocky McLaggen. The Keeper fist-pumps the air and gestures the crowd to cheer him on louder. Next up, Flint tucks away his penalty quite easily via some tricky flying against the arrogant McLaggen.

"FORTY-ZERO, courtesy of Captain Flint with his close-up tactics to unsettle McLaggen. And it looks like Potter's in the air once more to start his search... if he can shake those Beaters off."

A thump near Harry's left lets him know that Bole's deflected yet another Bludger sent his way. Now Harry tries to exploit his Firebolt advantage while speeding away from the Durmstrang duo. With the wind in his face, he pulls the broom upwards to ascend above the action. But as soon as he reaches high above the pitch, Harry spots Krum glancing at him before diving downward.

" _Wronski Feint or genuine sighting? Surely he wouldn't try a feint from this dangerous height_?" wonders Harry, who's unsure but unwilling to risk letting Krum get to the Snitch. He therefore follows the Bulgarian as both drastically increase their speed while cutting through the air.

So loud is the wind in Harry's ears that he simply cannot hear the crowd nor Bagman's commentary. Each second of rapid descent has the grass ahead coming nearer and nearer. But all Harry can see before him is the figure of Viktor Krum, whose red robes match that of his Firebolt. The grass ahead seems nearer than ever now, quite possibly metres away as Harry tries to look around Krum.

In a matter of seconds it happens: the red Firebolt is pulled upwards as Krum seemingly spirals off to expose the Snitchless expanse of ground to his pursuer. And yet Harry's already pulling up before even thinking straight. The wind in his ears softens as he spirals away to avoid a collision, as the Irish Seeker (Lynch) suffered back in August.

"SPECTACULAR, LAD!" yells a most enthusiastic Bagman. "Slytherin's star Seeker has survived Viktor Krum's Wronski Feint with deft precision on his Firebolt. And what a nasty crash that would've been had he not."

Holding his arms out to the side quite challengingly, Harry can't help but smirk at Krum. "Nice try, but you won't get me as easily as you've stolen my friend."

"Vot friend?" They circle around each other before the loudly applauding Slytherin stands (while Harry clearly hears his name being cheered on.)

"Your Hermy-own-ninny is my _Hermione_. What right do you have to come and take her from me?"

Krum's expression drops slightly as he appears even surlier than usual. "You haff no respect, Harry Potter. You already are vith the Champion girl, Fleur, so how can you think to like Herm-own-ninny as vell? That is just not right to do."

"Don't you dare lecture me on respect," retorts Harry, whose animated manner of arguing has the nearby crowd curiously watching. Although they have no idea what's got him angered, the Slytherin majority cheer Harry on nonetheless while the remaining members applaud Krum.

"Uh, gentlemen, what's going on over there? Harry Potter's got his knickers in a twist over something. Surely it can't be the Wronski Feint? Because he's survived it."

"How can you haff more than one girl that you vont? That is stupid," says Krum sternly, while slowly hovering to his right.

Harry mirrors by hovering left as he speaks. "Who gives a crap? You make it sound like I see girls as toys—"

"You do." Krum slams his fist against his other palm. "And it makes me angry to see you liking Herm-own-ninny vhile being with Fleur and your friend with the fancy black hair."

"Pansy."

"Does not matter, Harry Potter. You cannot go around telling one girl that she is nice and then go say that to another one _and_ another one. Vot do you think you are playing here with vomen? They are not your trophies to collect." Krum narrows his eyes at the sighing Harry.

"Idiot, if that was how I saw things around here I'd be kissing a lot more girls. Do you see me doing that? No? Exactly. Don't insult what you don't know."

"Then vhy are you still after Herm-own-ninny? Vhy do you say you love so many of these vomen? You are like the animal that volks around looking for—"

"Shut the hell up!" yells Harry, before lowering his tone once more. "I like every one of those girls for good reason. Hermione's the first kind one I've met, Fleur's more than just pretty, and Pansy's always been at my side. Don't you are judge me."

"You will haff to pick one someday, because you cannot marry more than one."

"Says who? This is the Wizarding World after all." Harry flies off to resume his search while Krum does the same.

Elsewhere, Oliver seems to be doing exactly what Harry's hoped as the Slytherin hoops have, so far, been left untouched. Meanwhile, Yasmin brings a cheer to many a Slytherin girl's face as she scores the fifth and sixth goals of the game. Her skills has Flint laughing with himself for having always denied her this chance, though he grins smugly upon scoring Slytherin's seventh goal today. Adrian makes it eight after Oliver denies Spinnet a fine opportunity to score, then the Ex-Captain grins tauntingly at her as the game continues.

 


	33. Captains' Finale

Like cat and mouse, so does Harry seem to be streaking across the pitch with Stangeland and Zaytsev forever on his tail. Even with the advantage of his Firebolt, Harry still needs to slow down in order to concentrate and scan his eyes around. This presents the opportunity for his opposing Beaters to close the gap and bring in the Bludgers. Rarely has Harry ever seen Derrick and Bole this involved in defending him before.

"...Bludger to Spinnet and that's gotta hurt! Good thing those armguards took the brunt of the blow or she would've needed to recover for a bit. Nice aim from Derrick who's caused Spinnet to drop the Quaffle for Pucey to retrieve. It's all happening in the centre of the pitch as both teams' Chasers come in to try and make something of this. Pucey to Flint who ducks beneath Bell to pass to Shafiq. Slytherin Chasers moving forward without worrying about any Bludgers, since Zaytsev and Stangeland are redirecting them to Potter on the right end of the pitch. Pucey takes the shot... SAVED by McLaggen but caught on the rebound as Slytherin scores! NINETY-ZERO!"

If Angelina's plan is to sacrifice goals in order to keep Harry preoccupied, he reckons it's a heck of a risk. Countless faces now pass by Harry as he zips past the stands while the guest Beaters follow in pursuit. They seem to be positioning themselves so that one hits the Bludger from afar which is then redirected towards Harry by the other. A fairly effective tactic since they nearly get in two shots before Bole swoops down to deflect.

Harry turns to his Beater ally before issuing a suggestion. "They're never gonna stop chasing me here. Get Derrick to use the other Bludger to knock out McLaggen so we can rack up the goals."

"You worried that Krum's gonna find the Snitch? Why not search higher so it's harder for those two to direct that Bludger?" asks Bole.

"Nah, the Snitch could be down here, and Krum's having it easy now. Time to show Johnson that she's not gonna have a smooth ride to the Cup by keeping me busy."

"Alright." Bole swerves away towards Derrick across the pitch, which leaves Harry exposed to his pursuers. Minutes later sees a ball of iron whizz past his left shoulder before Harry rolls left to speed away.

"Looks like Potter's still trying to shake off those Beaters but they're persistent! Viktor Krum's hovering along near the visitors' stands while searching for the Snitch."

_WHACK!_

"For God's sake!" yells Harry, who just about uses his arms to block another Bludger hit. But it certainly hurts as a dull ache briefly travels up to his shoulders. "Go target the Chasers too, cowards!"

Barely a minute later...

_WHAM!_

"Did you all see that? Poor Potter's taken yet  _another_  hit by a Bludger... which was blocked though," says Bagman.

"Alright." Harry spins around before shaking his head and flying past a curious Flint to reach Derrick. "Give me that bat."

"What? Shouldn't you be tracking Krum before he spots the Snitch?"

"I said: give me that bat!" Harry flies in to yank the Beater's bat from Derrick. Then, he waits for Yasmin to enter the scoring area before Harry whacks a Bludger towards McLaggen. The surprised (yet still arrogant) Keeper ends up tumbling through a goalpost before crashing into the sand below. Boos echo across most of the stands while Harry's supporters laugh and applaud. This includes Flint who clearly voices his approval.

"That-a-boy! Learnt from the master!"

Madam Hooch blows her whistle before flying right up to Harry.

"FOUL! Only Beaters should use their bats, Potter. Penalty to Gryffindor."

"Sorry ma'am," replies a sniggering Harry, who tosses the bat back to an amused Derrick as both players fly off. Before the penalty is taken, Angelina, Spinnet, and Bell, now approach Madam Hooch to protest her decision.

"He should be sent off for that!" shouts Angelina.

"Cormac's hurt! Look at him lying over there!" adds Spinnet.

"How is this fair?" asks Bell.

Madam Hooch sighs before responding. "Quiet, we hardly ever send players off in Quidditch. Thought you knew that, Miss Johnson. My decision is final."

"Then make it a double penalty because that was just a cheap move!"

"The Quaffle  _was_  in the scoring area anyway, so it wasn't that bad," says Madam Hooch.

Grinning in satisfaction, Harry uses the distraction of the Gryffindors' protests to fly towards the centre of the pitch. With McLaggen down, Harry earns much laughter from his supporters as he grabs the Quaffle before spinning around.

"What's he doing? Hello? Someone please look at Potter..." says Bagman, who's desperately containing his own laughter as Harry scores a cheap goal.

"He's CHEATING so badly!" Spinnet tries to get Madam Hooch to turn around, but the referee seems livid with all the yelling in her face.

"Stop yelling at me already! Have you ladies lost all respect?"

Meanwhile, a sniggering Flint calls over Adrian and Yasmin, and even Oliver (who flies across the pitch to view the action).

Each of the Slytherin Chasers slot in a goal as Flint kicks the Quaffle in, followed by Yasmin flying around to toss it, then Adrian decides to headbutt one through the hoops before Flint takes another shot. Lastly, Harry slyly slots in another goal as he flies off towards the right flank.

Shaking his head, though not making any effort to stop the foul play, Oliver slightly sighs. He then sees McLaggen in the sand before Flint flies right up to Oliver.

"Hahaha! Remember that from years ago? Brings back them memories, eh?"

"You guys are the worst." Oliver spins around before returning to guard his posts as Madam Hooch finally turns around.

"Carry on with the match already!"

Flint raises his hands in mock surrender. "Sorry! We were just gonna put the Quaffle in the centre for Gryffindor's penalty."

Bagman sighs into the megaphone as the match continues. "Ah, the joys of Quidditch... Our referee hasn't seen anything but some rules are rules and technically the Quaffle went in... how many times was that? Potter, Flint, Shafiq, Pucey, Flint, Potter... that's six. Well, looks like it's now 150-0 as we carry on. Still no spotting of the Snitch by either Seeker as both circle around the pitch. Aaaand here comes Zaytsev and Stangeland to resume their attacks on Potter."

"Bloody hell," sighs Harry, who tries to keep a decent enough pace in order to search for the Snitch. But with Bole needing to constantly fend off the guest Beaters' Bludger shots, this feels much like Dobby's rogue one from years back.

"...Johnson takes the shot... SAVED by Oliver Wood yet again! What a missed opportunity to score that penalty as Miss Champion seems absolutely furious. Puddlemere's reserve man is certainly reminding his old team who's boss. Top lad indeed..."

With Krum searching near the Hufflepuff stands, Harry decides to risk flying upwards since the Snitch is capable of reaching the clouds above. Thankfully, there's a boundary limitation on it, preventing the Snitch from actually leaving the horizontal perimeter of the stadium itself.

As an added bonus, the guest Beaters seem to be having difficulty redirecting a Bludger upwards while Harry ascends. But with no luck after a few minutes of searching, he opts to descend in order to keep an eye on Krum. The last thing he'd want is to be up here while the Bulgarian spots the Snitch in the stadium.

"...looks like Captain Johnson's calling for a time-out with her entire team. Game is paused after those two goals putting us at 170-0. And if Krum's made to stop his search then so should Potter," says Bagman, causing Madam Hooch to signal for Harry to land.

As team Slytherin groups together near their stands, Flint seems curious.

"Wonder what they're talking about? It's her fault that we're having an easy goal day here. No Beaters makes life super easy with the Quaffle."

Harry seems confused as he looks to Flint. "Wait, don't they focus on you guys once I'm high up in the sky?"

Oliver shakes his head before standing beside Flint. "Nope, and I reckon that's what Angelina's discussing now. Those Beaters are like guard dogs prowling around waiting for you to come closer again. They barely bother aiming for any of us besides you."

The Slytherin crowd nearby points, whispers, and then whistles at Oliver who pretends to not notice. It takes more than a few minutes of vehement discussion between the Gryffindors to have Madam Hooch insist that the game carries on. But as Angelina seems furious over something, the Slytherin team now walks across the pitch to inquire.

"... I'm giving you an order! Forget going after Potter and start helping us Chasers," says Angelina, who's addressing the smug Durmstrang Beaters.

"Sorry, but our efforts are to help Viktor," replies Zaytsev firmly.

"They're scoring all over the place because you two are so focused on  _him_!" Bell points to Harry as the group of Slytherin players approach, including an amused Oliver who speaks:

"Lost control of your team, Angelina?"

"No offense, Oliver, but shut up."

Madam Hooch sighs once more before folding her arms and tapping her foot impatiently. "I'm a Quidditch referee and not a counsellor. So can we all get back into the air and get on with the match? Sort your problems out with Madam Pomfrey, not here on my Quidditch pitch."

Flint shakes his head while laughing. "It's like everything's just going wrong for Team Gryffindor today. Cup final at last and look what's happened. Should've stayed loyal to your key players, Johnson."

"Loyal?" Spinnet stomps forward to glare at Flint. "That's rich coming from  _you._ Where's Montague and Warrington? Where's Bletchley?"

"Nah but you see there's a difference in that I didn't go kicking them off for foreigners," retorts Flint, while Harry makes an exaggerated taunting gasp.

Eventually, McLaggen is stopped from confronting Harry over the Bludger foul as the former returns to his goalposts. Then, all but Krum, Harry, and the Gryffindor Chasers remain in time-out as Madam Hooch gives them 60 seconds to sort themselves out.

Pointing his finger angrily at Krum, Harry snarls as he speaks. "You're very strong hiding behind your fellow Beater guard dogs chasing me around, huh?"

"They are my friends and vill vont to stop the arrogant Harry Potter."

"Look." Bell tries to speak reason to their guest Seeker. "Potter's a pain in the arse this year for sure, but tell your guys to help us out."

"I do not care much for this House thing or Gryffindor."

"So then what the hell is all this about?" asks Angelina. "The Triwizard Tournament? Are you gonna try and take me down as well?"

Krum shakes his head before continuing to stare down a most defiant Harry. "He needs to learn his lesson, the rude little man."

"And you need to stay the hell away from MY friend, you hear? This is war, Krum. I'm not letting you run off with Hermione!"

Harry's statement brings a gawking response from the Chasers, and even Madam Hooch face-palms herself as the Seekers scowl at each other.

" _THAT'S_  WHAT THIS IS ABOUT?" Angelina practically pulls at her hair in frustration and disbelief. "Are you two for real?"

"It's... kinda cute. But only if it wasn't happening at the cost of our match!" declares Bell, while sighing and shaking her head.

Alicia Spinnet stands with her arms on her sides now. "Great. Either our world class guy is gonna bring victory or go down to stupid hormones."

"Oh you don't have to worry about me," replies Harry smugly.

"SHE WASN'T TALKING ABOUT YOU!" shouts Angelina.

"Ladies and gentlemen, get your arses back into the air right now." Madam Hooch sighs while shaking her head. "And here I thought it was bad back in my day... Boys, focus on the match!" She blows her whistle to resume play.

"...finally looks like they're off again after a bit of a row down there. Talk about watching the drama unfold indeed! Here we go as Derrick hits a Bludger which catches Bell. Bell drops the Quaffle while Derrick follows up by narrowly missing Spinnet. Quaffle moves forward from Flint to Shafiq to Pucey... to Shafiq...shoots ... aaaaaand she SCORES! Too easy without Gryffindor getting Beater support. 180-0 It now stands to Slytherin!" Bagman can be heard sighing a slight bit at the lack of teamwork of Gryffindor's guests. "Come on, Durmstrangs, perhaps it's time to stop targeting Potter?"

The second Bludger circling the pitch is swiftly whacked towards Harry by Stangeland, before Bole deflects. Then, Zaytsev follows up by narrowly missing a shot at him as the Durmstrang duo seek to get at Harry.

But as annoying as the Bludger attacks may be, Harry grins upon seeing Derrick chasing after the other one. Without the Durmstrangs helping, Keeper McLaggen is left far too exposed to yet another Bludger shot. This time it's fair and square as Adrian's already in the scoring area while a Beater's taken the shot, instead of Harry.

"...since the Gryffindor Keeper's down, it's up to their Chasers or Beaters, who aren't helping here, to stop Flint's group. But once the Quaffle's in the scoring area then only one Chaser's allowed," says Bagman, who soon chuckles over the megaphone. "And people say we Beaters aren't always important? Look here! Who's gonna stop whichever Slytherin Chaser once they're within shooting range, huh?"

Nobody, as Yasmin gets the pass from Flint before she easily enters within scoring range.

"Stay back or else it's a penalty against you!" warns Madam Hooch to Angelina, as the latter nearly approaches Yasmin before the goalposts.

"As easy as counting one, two, three... Shafiq shoots, and she SCORES!" Bagman sighs while Harry spots him shaking his head at the guest Beaters. "190-0 As our match continues. Better hope McLaggen gets to his broom soon or else it's open season for the Slytherins again.

Madam Hooch blows her whistle after Yasmin's goal. "No funny business! McLaggen may be down but Gryffindor's now in possession after conceding a goal. One of you Gryffindor Chasers can go fetch the Quaffle in McLaggen's place and restart play."

_SMASH!_

"Oh for fu—" Harry's momentary distraction costs him yet again as Stangeland bypasses Bole to catch Harry with a Bludger to his right shoulder. But he stays on his Firebolt while briefly rubbing the painful joint. "Damn that one hurt..."

"Harry!" calls Bole, while flying to approach his Seeker as they hover near the Beauxbatons crowd. "Let me get Derrick to beef up your defence. Him and I together can hold off those Durmstrangs so you can search properly."

"No, let Derrick do the damage so Angelina can suffer without her real Beaters. That's exactly what I need..." Harry grins slyly before flying off with only Bole guarding him.

"...McLaggen getting to his feet now, better hurry up there, lad, as Flint's on the way. Flint dodges Spinnet while Bell takes a Bludger to her arm, seems okay, Flint now in the scoring area. McLaggen's flying up but it's too late as Flint SCORES! 200-0 Is the unbelievable flattening by Slytherin's Chasers against Beater-less opponents today."

Now Harry spots it: a glimmer of gold zipping down from the skies above. "There's the Snitch! Bole, join up with Derrick and blast those Chasers for us to get goals."

"Are you mental? Who's gonna deflect the Durmstrang Bludgers away from you then?"

"Just go help Marcus and the rest," says Harry.

But Krum's seen the Snitch as well, as both Seekers lean to accelerate their Firebolts.

"HERE IT IS, FOLKS! THE MOMENT WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR AS HARRY POTTER AND VIKTOR KRUM HAVE SPOTTED THE GOLDEN SNITCH!" Bagman's enthusiastic yelling livens up the crowd as cheers, gasps, and tremendous chants fill the stadium now.

Durmstrang's Beaters may be targeting him yet again, but that doesn't stop Harry from swooping down right up to Krum. Two talented Seekers now zipping past many a fan in the crowd as they chase after one fast Snitch. Unlike the regular ones from school, today's Snitch gives even two Firebolts a challenge as it suddenly spins around to loop in the air. Following in its trajectory are Krum and Harry, who spin their brooms simultaneously as they flip over (much to the crowd's amazement) in the air to stay in pursuit.

Having essentially spun 180 degrees means Harry finds himself speeding right towards Zaytsev and Stangeland who'd been chasing him moments ago. But they suddenly swerve their brooms right in the full-speed Harry's path, eliciting many a Slytherin boo.

"... they've got a few seconds to get out of the way before that's ruled as a Blatching foul!" shouts Bagman over the megaphone. "GOOD LORD! BLOW THAT WHISTLE ALREADY!"

_CRASH!_

There's simply too little time even for Harry to roll around as he collides into the parked Stangeland. Both come crashing just about 10 feet to the grass below. While hurt from previous Bludger shots, and now such a blatant impact, Harry spots Krum speeding off behind the Snitch.

"WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM? BOTH OF YOU BEATER PIECES OF SH—" Harry's stopped short of attacking the notably taller Norwegian by Madam Hooch.

"Calm down, Potter." She turns towards the smirking Beater. "And you, that was utterly reckless and presented an unnecessary danger to this game. Penalty to Slytherin for a blatant Blatching foul! OH NO YOU DON'T!"

Madam Hooch seems to spot Zaytsev, who's taking aim at Harry as the latter attempts to climb onto his broom.

"If you send that Blud—"

_WHACK!_

"DAMN! Potter's having one infernal day out here as he takes yet  _another_ Bludger. This time it's as he tries to mount his broom... oooh I think his arm's done."

Bagman's correct as Harry picks himself up after sustaining a nasty shot to his already pained right arm.

"How's that arm?" asks Madam Hooch, though on quick inspection she rules it nearly broken. "I've never seen such foul Beater tactics in my life before... DOUBLE PENALTY TO SLYTHERIN NOW!"

Before Harry can take off in pursuit of Krum, Flint and the rest of the team land nearby. And their expressions are livid indeed as the Captain shoves Stangeland aside.

"YOU WANNA PLAY DIRTY, HUH? FINE!"

"We're just here to make Viktor win, that's all," replies Stangeland quite calmly.

"That's enough, Flint. Get on with the game." Madam Hooch blows her whistle as Adrian's penalty attempt is stopped by an annoyed McLaggen. Then, as Harry manages to take off once more, Yasmin slots away the second penalty.

"...and I suppose that makes it 210 for Slytherin here. No sense in mentioning the Gryffindor score because there just isn't any so far..."

In a matter of seconds, Harry zips past  _Ooohs_ and  _Aaahs_  of the stands to catch up to Krum, who's metres away from the Snitch.

"You feeling brave for getting the upper hand against a guy with a busted arm?" asks Harry, while flying with his left arm stabilizing him on the broom as usual. Though he forces himself to assist with the injured right.

Krum ignores him while seemingly focused on chasing after the Snitch. Both Seekers follow it with deft precision and crisp manoeuvres as it nears the Gryffindor goalposts. Soon the ball of gold begins swivelling downwards around one pole to which Krum almost dares Harry to follow. The latter braces himself to keep up as both Seekers mirror the Snitch's moves.

"Great Scott! Look at 'em go out there. They're twirling around that post as the Snitch descends towards the ground... Both Viktor Krum and Harry Potter are showing us how Seeker flying's done!"

"You haff much talent but you are not as good as me," says Krum, once the Seekers are flying inches above the grass to pursue the Snitch.

"Maybe you are better than me after all," admits Harry truthfully. "But at least I never sic'd my friends on you throughout the match like a coward."

"Tactics, Harry Potter, that vos all."

" _Tactics_ , huh? Alright, if you say so..."

They fly at a blistering pace while chasing after the Snitch which speeds diagonally across the pitch.

"Hey, Bread-Krum, ever heard the Muggle story of Beauty and the Beast?" asks Harry, after both Seekers have climbed upwards to chase the Snitch. "Hermione's the beauty and you're definitely the beast, hahaha."

"You are talking no sense and are irritating me now, Harry Potter."

"I'm just saying how much of an idiot you really are to think Hermione's yours..."

"I do not think that! Vould you be quiet already, little man?" Krum rolls to fly past a startled Yasmin while Harry ducks beneath Spinnet. Both Seekers now pursuing the Snitch as it flies in a figure of 8 right in the centre of the pitch.

"Where's your two buddies now, huh? Aren't you missing your boyfriends, Bread-Krum?"

"If you are trying to make me very angry here, it vill not vork. You are being a stupid child now. Maybe that is vhy Hermy-own-ninny likes me now, and not you..."

"YOU BITCH!" Harry briefly looks over his shoulder to spot Zaytsev coming in from behind, ready to connect with a nearby Bludger as they near the Slytherin stands.

Since it's unable to pass the boundary line around the pitch, the Snitch spins to turn right just before reaching the crowd. This leaves Krum and Harry to stop and spin on the spot (while the Slytherins watch them in awe).

"You know most of these folks are on my side, right? So why do you idiots even sit at our table?" asks Harry, who swerves to mirror Krum's movements.

"You need to learn to close your mouth vhen it is not needed."

A loud thud has Harry glancing right to see Zaytsev sending a Bludger his way, which makes Harry grin as it's at Gryffindor's expense.

"FOUL!" shouts Bagman over the megaphone. "Beaters shouldn't endanger the crowd that much, even if there's a player nearby. Gotta have your target a bit more away from the crowd than that."

To many a student's relief, and applause, Harry takes one for the crowd by lifting his arms and blocking the Bludger before it rebounds away.

"PENALTY TO SLYTHERIN FOR A BUMPHING FOUL!" Madam Hooch can be heard nearby. But with Krum swiftly flying off, Harry can't risk watching Flint take the penalty.

To much of the crowd's amazement, Harry streaks full speed towards Krum before doing something he's seen Flint perform back in '91. After standing up on his broom, Harry leaps over Krum before landing back on his broom to carry on flying.

"MY GOODNESS, BUT DID YOU ALL JUST SEE THAT? Oh, and it looks like Flint's coming in to take the penalty..."

"You are a show-off, Harry Potter. That move vos stupid and dangerous."

"Whatever, Slytherin's definitely winning this match."

"...220..." Harry hears from Bagman minutes later, while flying beside Krum as they begin descending behind the Snitch. It appears to be diving at roughly a 45 degree angle to the grass far ahead.

"You scared of this dive, Harry Potter?" taunts Krum.

"I survived your stupid Wronski Feint earlier, in case your ruddy pumpkinhead has forgotten."

"Vot did you call me?"

"I said you're a RUDDY PUMPKINHEAD! Because you look stupid, hahahaha!" Harry's laughter dies down a bit upon seeing Krum scowl. The latter now grabs onto his broom as they continue diving behind the Snitch.

"And that's another foul in favour of team Slytherin as Viktor Krum grabs hold of his opponent's broom. I don't know what they're arguing about but it's certainly got both their knickers in a twist!" says Bagman, before Harry tries elbowing away Krum's hand which counts as a foul on its own.

"Get stuffed, you World Cup Bread-Krum loser!"

"... penalty SAVED by McLaggen, next up is the Gryffindor penalty for Potter's elbowing of Krum... oh and it's SAVED by another fine performance from Oliver Wood who's on fire today! Not literally, of course..."

As Harry and Krum descend at such a rapid pace, the former can't help but suddenly think about some of Uncle Vernon's favourite films. Harry recalls hearing (from his cupboard or bedroom) that loud Stuka siren which plays through his mind upon being dragged down by Krum now.

"Let go of my friggin broom, you lunatic!"

"If you are so skilled, you vill be able to pull out of this dive, big mouth," replies Krum, who refuses to let go. "All you do is talk, talk, talk..."

"Have it your way then!" Harry grabs hold of Krum's broom as they're now just under 200 metres from the grass.

"PULL UP! What are you two doing? The Snitch has already begun climbing up..." yells Bagman.

"Go back home and find your own bookworm angel, you Durmstrang bitch."

The grass grows nearer by the split second as two Seekers remain diving down.

"Selfish idiot!" snarls Krum, who's usually quite reserved. "Every voman around cannot be yours."

Screams begin to echo across the stands as the ground is merely a dozen metres away.

"You'll never take her away from me, Hermione Granger is MIIIIIIIINE!"

_THUD!_

Both Seekers crash in a 45 degree nosedive. Everything now seems a blurry spin as they're catapulted through the air before landing on their sides.

"GOODNESS ME! THEY'RE ABSOLUTELY BATTERED NOW," shouts Bagman as the crowd goes a mix of shock, silence, and anticipation.

For Harry, everything seems to happen in almost slow motion while he lays face down on the ground. Then, he cranes his neck to look up at the disorganized mix of scarlet and green descending around him and Krum. The latter battling to crawl towards his broom as well, while Madam Hooch's whistle is barely heard over the ringing in Harry's head.

Although he's now sat up by his teammates, Harry simply looks at them as they speak frantically with him. Voiceless mouthing of words are all he sees until, gradually, sound seemingly returns. The disorganized mix of spectator responses to the crash, as well as Bagman's swift commentary, and Slytherin teammates in Harry's face, now overwhelms him.

"Harry!" yells Yasmin. "What the hell? Why didn't you pull up in time?"

"Had to... teach Krum a lesson..."

"Oh yeah?" Adrian glances to the right before continuing. "Well he's beat up too but we all know he can take it better than you, no offense."

Flint rushes over to check on his Seeker. "You crazy lad, are you okay? Still able to play?"

Shaking his head and shrugging, Harry tries to laugh while still being held up by Yasmin. "Dunno, I think I'm done."

"No way can we let Viktor Krum catch the Snitch," declares Oliver firmly. "Not after all the work we put in today. Cheating or not, we're on 220 so that makes Slytherin's total 560 so far. Gryffindor's on 440 so do the calculation, folks."

Derrick and now Bole race over to the injured Harry.

"Come on, man!"

"There's a 120 difference in the final standings. You gotta get up and get the Snitch before Krum steals it for Gryffindor, no offense, Wood," says Bole.

One glimpse to his right has Harry seeing Viktor Krum struggle to his feet. The latter being helped by his Beaters.

"I don't think he's really in it for Gryffindor anymore. Now it's personal between me and him. Look, Oliver, let's swap brooms so we can close this game off," says Harry, much to his teammates' disbelief.

Adrian gawks at him. "You're giving up? There's no way you'd beat Krum's Firebolt with a Nimbus 2001."

But the look on Oliver and Flint's faces says it all to Harry, as they seem to be in thought before Flint speaks.

"Harry's right, I mean, look at him! He's not exactly as sturdy as Krum over there. Plus, our boy took tons of Bludger hits and crashes today unlike Krum. If this is our final few minutes of Quidditch at school then let's go out in style. Oliver, mount that Firebolt and join us upfront."

"Four goals before Krum gets to the Snitch, damn, and he's on his feet already," says a worried Oliver.

"A busted arm and a broom disadvantage... the odds certainly are against me here, eh?" Harry shakes his head while sighing. "Alright, I'll see how long I can hold 'em off. Derrick and Bole, focus on clearing the way for our attackers."

Madam Hooch hurries over to confirm if Harry's still able to play. Once he nods at her, she turns to face the distant commentary box before gesturing a thumbs up, though also confirming his injury.

"...looks like Harry Potter's arm is finished for this match but he's still going. Hang on, what's happening there? He's swapping brooms with Oliver Wood! Potter's going at Krum with a Nimbus 2001? What gives?"

"Show 'em all who's the best Captains we've seen in recent years," says Harry to Oliver and Flint, before taking off on a Nimbus 2001. It's a fair bit slower than a Firebolt, but Harry brings it up to full speed to pursue Krum who's seen the Snitch again.

"You fight vell, but you are finished."

Harry keeps his left arm on the broom while flying right up to jostle Krum with his right shoulder. But as they speed on the turn along the Gryffindor stands, Harry falls behind once more. So fast do they speed by that many banners come flying off along the railing.

Darting his gaze right, Harry spots Oliver easily saving Bell's shot before passing to Slytherin's Chasers. Five green players move forward as the Quaffle is passed between the trio while Derrick and Bole delay the opposing Chasers with a Bludger. The guest Beaters doing little to assist Angelina as they now fly right up to Harry.

"...Quaffle to Flint, to Shafiq, to Pucey who takes aim. Bludger from Bole which causes McLaggen to roll aside as the right hoop's unguarded... SCORED by Adrian Pucey! 230 For the relentless team Slytherin as we continue. Elsewhere, we have Potter struggling to shake off those Beaters again. He dodges that Bludger neatly before coming up to Krum. Well, look at that boy fly even with a weaker broom and battered arm! But does he have any hopes of catching the Snitch after giving away his Firebolt?"

Krum's now forever ahead as Harry follows him on a spiralling dive before both spin around once the Snitch climbs. Every second feels precious to Harry as he mirrors his opponent's manoeuvres. Taking a chance, Harry tries to reach out at the Snitch with his left arm. But this leaves him without any stabilization on the broomstick except for his core, which isn't enough to withstand Krum's shoulder barge.

"Oh he was so close, so close to grabbing that Snitch! Potter's injured arm surely puts him at a massive disadvantage as Krum pushes him aside to take the lead. But Potter's not giving up as he catches Krum on a sharp turn left. There they go down the left flank of the pitch, people, cheer those lads on! What? Hey, that's another GOAL from Marcus Flint after some deft play by Derrick and Bole to clear Johnson and Bell out the way. 240-0 As we carry on with one extraordinary match!"

While holding off Krum for as long as possible, Harry streaks by Angelina as she yells at her Chasers.

"DAMNIT, I wish we had Fred and George with us today!"

He smiles as that's exactly what he'd been wanting to hear.

 _"KRUM! KRUM! KRUM! VIKTOR FOR VICTORY!"_ chants the Durmstrang crowd, as well as Gryffindor's supporters. Meanwhile, Harry's lot seem to be giving it their all as they cheer the underdog on.

_"GO, LITTLE STAR! SLYTHERIN FOR THE CUP!"_

Two guest Beaters barge into Harry, who ducks and rolls before speeding forward to chase Krum. The Slytherin goalposts now come up ahead as the Snitch circles around them while Harry gestures to Oliver.

"Harry Potter seems to be signalling something to Wood... Wood's going forward! OLIVER WOOD'S JOINING IN ON THE SLYTHERIN ATTACK NOW! Here we go as Shafiq passes to Flint. Potter's following Krum nicely as the Seekers spin skilfully around those goalposts, oh I say!"

Harry and Krum each streak forward before swerving to turn through a goal hoop as they near the Snitch. For the former, it feels like these are the final few minutes as he now desperately delays Krum as much as possible.

Far ahead, Derrick and Bole are once again smashing a Bludger or two to fend off the Gryffindor players as Yasmin passes to assist Flint for a goal.

"TWO-FIFTY NOW ON THE SCOREBOARD! Captain Marcus Flint leads by example yet again. Gryffindor in possession as McLaggen passes to Johnson..."

Green eyes widen in fear as Harry falls behind, while Krum reaches out towards the Snitch. The Bulgarian's fingers now inches away from seizing 150 points.

"KRUM'S RIGHT ON IT NOW, AND HARRY POTTER CAN'T SEEM TO DO A THING WITH ONLY ONE GOOD ARM!"

Leaning as low as he can, Harry pushes Oliver's Nimbus 2001 to its maximum speed as he flies in to jostle against Krum.

"Give up, you cannot vin this match, Harry Potter!"

"I know, but what you don't seem to realize is that sometimes it's not just about  _Harry Potter_! Come on then, pumpkinhead."

"...Krum's on it again, nope, shoved aside by Potter, nope, shoved aside by Krum! No offence to any Bulgarian or Irish visitors or players in the stands, but this is almost better than the World Cup! Potter's making a wild gesture to his team now... and it looks like Pucey's seized the Quaffle in the centre of the pitch..."

They now fly near the Slytherin stands as Harry desperately keeps himself between Krum and the Snitch, though he cannot risk reaching out. Not as he spots two players, one in robes of green, and the other in black, going in for one final attack.

"...Flint passes to Wood.. Wood to Flint! Flint to Wood.... Wood back to Flint! They're outflying Johnson and her girls as Flint takes the Quaffle again. Flint shoots... SAVED BY MCLAGGEN! Johnson's coming in to seize the Quaffle on the rebound..."

His heart racing at its peak today, Harry crosses his fingers while being muscled aside by Krum. The latter now breaking forward right up towards the Golden Snitch.

..."Johnson takes the Quaff— OH! Wood flies in with that Firebolt to take a shot... _GOOOOOAL_  BY OLIVER WOOD! SLYTHERIN ON TWO-SIXTY NOW!"

Panting in exhaustion from having nearly been wrestling with Krum seconds ago, Harry comes to his final stop for today. Then, he leans forward on his broom (while many a Slytherin cannot believe that he's giving up) to watch Krum grab the Snitch and hold it high.

"VIKTOR KRUM HAS CAUGHT THE GOLDEN SNITCH! THAT'S IT, GAME OVER FOR SLYTHERIN AS GRYFFINDOR HAD STARTED THIS GAME ON A 100 LEAD. SURELY THEIR FINAL SCORE IS— hang on..."

Looking left, Harry finally spots his friends as Pansy and the rest seem ready to cry. Whether from thinking they've lost the Cup or from Harry's defeat, they look most sympathetically up at him. But Harry gives them all one wide grin as he stands up on his broom and roars with a cheer.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh friggin YEEEEEEAH!"

More than a few people in the stands gawk at him in bewilderment.

"Why's he cheering? They've won the Cup with Krum catching the Snitch," says a third year girl. Then, Nott and others can be heard cackling with laughter as the Slytherin minority jeers at Harry.

"Looooser! I told you all Viktor Krum's better than Potter. Forget the Cup, aren't we glad to see cheater Potter looooooooose?"

Harry hovers down towards the majority who support him, and they swarm him with consolations. He even spots the five girls bursting forward through the crowd to stand at the railing before him.

"You did your best, Harry, and you're still the best Seeker we've seen! Not fair that you were chased and beaten up all match!" says a tearful Pansy, who hurriedly tries hiding her moment of softness from the rest.

"Forget Krum! We'll cheer for you forever and ever and ever and ever," declares Daphne, while Millicent, Sally-Anne and Tracey all voice their agreements. More students soon pour in their expressions of support.

"Guys, girls, relax. Why is everyone so sad and upset?"

"Because you lost, Harry! We thought you were gonna win for us," says Astoria Greengrass, who stands beside her classmate, Yarrow MacDougal.

"Who said we've lost?" Harry looks to his right as Viktor Krum hovers towards him while holding the Snitch.

"Vot is the meaning of all this? Should you not be upset that I haff beaten you?" Krum rarely speaks aloud, and therefore his voice has the crowd staring at him in awe.

"The King of Slytherin didn't do it alone today. I lost our battle but we won the bloody war, listen..." Harry gestures to his temple (indicating that he's outsmarted Krum) as Bagman speaks.

"Looks like the final standings are actually... Gryffindor 590 and Slytherin... SIX HUNDRED POINTS! They've started this game on 340 and tallied 260 in goals! Oh, Viktor Krum, this is like a World Cup Déjà Vu again! Now I see what that was about... Harry wasn't playing to catch the Snitch in the end. Just had to hold Krum off long enough for his team to get them goals! No wonder Wood got that Firebolt!"

"Enjoy your victory, I'm pretty sure Hermione's waiting for her Champion," says Harry, while Krum looks disbelievingly at the Snitch in his hand.

"You are smarter than I had thought, Harry Potter. Vell played, I guess..."

Once Krum hovers away (while shaking his head in amazement) Harry turns to fly into the suddenly cheering crowd.

"YOU CUTE CLEVER BASTARD!" yells Pansy, who hugs and kisses him on the cheek.

"AAAA! My arm—"

"Don't break him, he's already hurt," says Tracey, before hugging Harry tightly anyway. The cheers and applause come hard and loud as Harry's basically swallowed by his supporters.

"Big deal, he's still a loooooooser!"

"Shut up, Nott, you stink!" retorts a lower year student.

"Loser."

"Malfoy, you suck too!" yells another Slytherin supporting Harry.

The most heart-warming moment for Harry is not so much being loved by the crowd, but rather what he sees in the centre of the pitch.

Even though it's not exactly how Oliver had ever thought he'd do it, he has technically won a Quidditch Cup. The Ex-Gryffindor Captain's last gasp goal certainly prevented a replay (in the event of a total points tie had Krum caught the Snitch) by putting Marcus Flint's team in the lead. Now a tearful Oliver holds the Cup high on one side, while Flint takes the other.

"Forget the controversy here, folks, and let's all put our hands together for two of the greatest Captains in recent history. Such passion they've displayed for _school_ Quidditch brings even a tear to this old Beater's eyes!"

Harry now addresses the nearby crowd. "Hey, I brought 'em here so give Oliver Wood the respect he deserves!"

They certainly do as most of Slytherin gives a most tremendous show of approval for the Ex-Gryffindor. Today's reception even greater than on the Captain's farewell last year as the celebrations continue.

 


	34. Celebrations and Scandals

"Congratulations are in order, perhaps, but I believe we've discussed not throwing confetti everywhere? Mister Flint, you and your team will clean this all up without magic, thank you," says Professor McGonagall over the megaphone.

"What? Oh, come on!" shouts Harry, who stands in the centre of the pitch. Just minutes ago he's watched the entire team cast spells of emerald and silver confetti in the air. But even a Saturday's worth of detention duty does little to curb their excitement as the other stands now laugh at them.

"It's school, man, you'll miss it when it's almost done, trust me," says Flint, who continues holding the Quidditch Cup high for all to see and take pictures, as some of the crowd descends upon the pitch.

Oliver Wood nods in agreement as he waits for whatever reception the oncoming Gryffindor spectators have to give. "I can tell you from experience, Harry, that when you're outta Hogwarts there's a part that wants to come back. Life's great when you no longer have classes but it's also a bit sad. Enjoy it, seriously, enjoy even McGonagall's 'punishment' now."

"It's already past lunch, and just about three hours until dinner... but who cares? We've won the Cup again!" cheers Yasmin, who runs over to a heroine's welcome from dozens of Slytherins.

"MORE!" yells Flint, while urging the team to point their wands in the air. "SHOOT THAT STUFF UP!"

Hundreds more pieces of confetti are conjured in the skies, which seem to remain within the perimeter of the stadium. Standing in showers of green and silver, team Slytherin and their supporters go wild on the expanse of grass. In the midst of a gathering crowd, Harry glances right and gawks upon seeing Professor Snape walking onto the pitch. He swiftly looks left and right before firing up his own bit of confetti in celebration before glaring at Harry.

"You saw nothing, Potter. Clean this up later."

Then, the Head of House turns around and stops in his tracks as Sirius Black comes running through the tunnel.

"Harry! Huh? Move out the way,  _Severus_ , Harry!"

"Sirius!"

Godfather and godson race across the pitch to embrace each other in a hug, uncaring for any looks of confusion.

"That was some CRAZY flying you did there today, wicked, mental! Honestly, they should've charged people for tickets for this match today." Sirius' enthusiastic congratulations are interrupted by Snape's slow clapping from behind him.

"Oh, yes, very good indeed, Potter." He sneers with a cold smile. "Very good on winning  _Slytherin_  yet another Cup. Shame that Gryffindor's so ironically defeated by their own Ex-Captain—"

"Do you hear something, Harry?" asks Sirius.

"—and that the son of their most 'decorated' Chaser in recent history's so adeptly planned their defeat." Snape turns to leave but once again balls a fist as another one of his unwanted visitors comes running down the tunnel.

"Harry! Oh get out the way, Severus, Harry!" Lupin hurries over to congratulate Slytherin's Seeker for a 'magnificent display of wit and cunning'. "Doesn't matter if you lost out to Viktor Krum but it's the end result that matters, right?"

"Professor Lupin? What are you doing here?" asks a surprised Harry.

" _Professor_? Very funny," replies Lupin, before Sirius speaks:

"Moony's off from work today so I brought him along. Heard from Professor Dumbledore that today's match would be 'special' but nobody really knew why. Any regrets for coming, Remus?"

"Not a slight bit. Haven't seen such a wild game since back in our day."

"How very touching to see this reunion, but I must be off," snarls Snape, who looks ready to draw his wand as Sirius pats him on the shoulder. " _Get away from m—_ "

"Uh-uh-uh, Severus, where do you think you're going?"

"Away! Out this stadium and far away from you idiots."

"Now don't be so mean." Sirius sniggers behind Snape's back as he continues to torment him. "The rules are clear—"

"Since when do  _you_  lot care about rules?" Snape smacks away the amused Sirius' hand from his shoulder.

"—that you're Harry's Head of House. There's the Cup, he's won the match with his team, and as their Head you need to stand with them and lift the Cup. Or do you wish to make a fool—"

"...an even bigger one than usual..." whispers Lupin to Harry, as Sirius continues to address the livid Potions master.

"—of yourself out here? People are waiting to see the winning House be received by their 'honourable' Head and most 'esteemed' leader." The amused look on Sirius' face conveys clear disbelief in these adjectives.

"No! I refuse."

"Why you acting like a little boy, Severus?" asks Sirius, while Harry can hardly believe his eyes in seeing the usually stoic Snape acting out. "Afraid to be put on the spot? Come, come, there's school procedure and tradition to be followed..."

Eventually, Snape sighs angrily before walking forward, though stopping as he's ushered forward by Sirius.

"I can walk on my own TWO legs!" Snape grabs Harry by his left arm before reluctantly leading him forward.

"Oops." Sirius sniggers at the exasperated look on Snape's face upon being spoken to again. "That's going to make you look bad, Professor Snape. Shouldn't you, as Harry's 'esteemed' Head of House, try and comfort him a bit? Cast up some bandages on his broken arm at least."

"Do—it—yourself."

"I'm just some not-so-well-known-as-his-godfather person. You're his role model." Sirius then coughs something sounding like 'really?' before gesturing Snape to help Harry.

"Yes, fellow  _professional_  colleague of Hogwarts," says a grinning Lupin. "Fix your Slytherin star student's arm for the spectators around."

Before Harry can even laugh, he finds his right arm bandaged and held in a splint cast nonverbally by a most irate Snape.

"Oh look, Remus. Severus actually cares about Prongs' boy, awww."

"POTTER, CENTRE OF FIELD, NOW!"

Snape forces himself to calm down before approaching the rest of the celebrating team with a slightly pleased expression. Harry, meanwhile, finds himself briefly stopped from walking forward as Sirius and Lupin fist-pump each other.

"Never gets dull messing with old Severus, hahaha!" laughs Lupin.

"Wish I was there to his stupid face when you got sorted into Slytherin, Harry," adds Sirius, who then looks ahead at the smirking Snape. "Oh crap, looks like he's gonna get  _you_ back now, sorry."

"Well done all," says Snape casually, as Harry approaches just in time to see his Head of House firing lots of confetti into the air. "Don't worry, Potter has volunteered to clean most of this mess up."

"Wha—?"

The team swarms to shake Harry's good hand before Yasmin grabs him into a tight hug.

"You did?" she asks incredulously. "Thanks a million, Harry! You're the best."

"But I swear I didn—"

"Yeah boy!" Flint pats him approvingly on the left shoulder. "You're a star lad indeed, thanks."

"We'll do just under half and leave the rest to you, man," says Derrick, while Adrian and Bole nod approvingly.

"It was a very close match indeed." Snape fires up slight explosions of more confetti into the air. "But we have shown ourselves to be the best House today." Followed by even more bits of emerald and silver.

"Um, Professor Snape, sir, I think that's enou—"

Yasmin's words are cut off by Snape, who looks at Harry as he continues.

"Now let us officially lift the Cup."

Yet  _another_ round of confetti comes raining down all across the stadium, courtesy of Snape who eventually raises the Cup with Marcus Flint. The rest of the team soon gathers around for a photo which is planned to be included in the school's records.

After walking across the pitch, Harry spots Oliver Wood chatting with many Gryffindors, including this year's new students who haven't actually met him before. From the looks of things, it seems he's managed to explain his reasons for siding with Slytherin today. Though some Gryffindors express betrayal, others appear to be understanding. Then, Oliver makes the effort to thank Marcus Flint and, especially, Harry for having him here.

"One day I'm gonna look back at this and laugh it off with my kids and grandkids. 'Ex-Gryffindor Captain returns to school to finally win a Cup... with Slytherin.'"

"Don't go crying on us now, Oliver," says Harry. "How'd the reunion go with the rest of your old team?"

"Fred and George are happy as heck that Angelina's lost the Cup, and I know they'll be constantly reminding her of today's mistakes. Ginny's quite sad that Krum beat you, especially given how everyone saw you being practically chased the entire match. She's a  _keeper_ , if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, yeah, heard that before. So, think you'll come and watch the rest of the Triwizard Tournament?" asks Harry.

"Unfortunately not, we'll be very busy now and I've already been excused to see the first one. Besides, I don't want to ruin the novelty of today's comeback."

"Yeah, I guess I understand. Well, good luck to whatever's in store for your future. Truth be told, I'm really going to miss the old Quidditch teams as the years go by. I mean, we're seeing three of our players leaving this year already." Harry sighs before Oliver gives him a smile.

"Dunno if I said it before, but when you wear that Captain's Badge in the future... think about all this now. Angelina's too proud to admit her mistakes today but if you ever find a good set of players, then treat them fairly. You should consider perhaps taking up professional Quidditch someday, because someone of your talent's bound to make the English National team."

"Let's see where life takes me." Harry smiles, though he knows that nothing's certain while Tom Marvolo Riddle's still out there.

"Maybe we'll cross paths again in the future, you're a good lad." Following Oliver Wood's (probably) final exit of this Quidditch Stadium, Harry returns to his team in the centre of the pitch. By now it seems that most of the crowd has already cleared out, leaving McGonagall's words to ring true as the clean-up begins.

Snape spots Lupin and Sirius still standing at an exit tunnel, to which he sneers. " _Visitors_  are requested to leave the castle now, show's over."

"I'm his guardian, you prat."

"Language, Black, we wouldn't want this to turn into another fight. Last I remember: a crazed beast ended up hurting a filthy dog before a student and his Head of House had to clean the mess."

Sirius seems ready to fight, before Harry walks over to calm him down. "Relax, I say we all just leave things alone and get on with our day. I'll take care of this mess, so don't worry."

"You're no House Elf, Harry, especially not to clean  _Severus_ ' friggin mess. McGonagall didn't expect the stadium to be  _this_  full of confetti!"

Lupin sighs before speaking. "Typical, Professor Snape, typical. Now how about you carry the Cup back before your head explodes from that ego?"

Wordlessly, Snape walks past them to exit the stadium as Sirius, Lupin, and Harry magically begin clearing out the pitch.

_"Evanesco_  seems to do the trick, amongst other spells." Lupin seamlessly slips back into a teaching role towards Harry. "I believe Professor McGonagall will teach this next year so now you get a headstart."

"Friends with benefits, teaching-wise I mean." Sirius pats Lupin on the shoulder while Harry tries out the Transfiguration spell... with mixed results.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get the hang of it in time."

"Professor?" Yasmin (and the rest of the team) seems quite surprised, if not pleased, to see Lupin back for a visit.

"There's no need to call me that anymore. And since nobody's really watching you kids now, just vanish the stuff with magic," he replies cheerfully. "Not gonna waste your Saturday afternoon cleaning like Muggles now, are you?"

"Yeah, screw this weekend punishment!" says Flint, who joins the rest of the team in cleaning the entire stadium by around 4pm. Harry, meanwhile, greets Sirius and Lupin before heading off to the locker room by himself. Once he sits down on a bench, Harry hears someone speak nearby:

"So, will I ever get to see the little godson after a Quidditch match with his arm  _not_  wrecked?"

Harry swiftly looks left, at the doorway, to spot a green-haired young woman smiling at him. Her silver eyes glancing upon his bandaged arm.

"Hey! Damn, but you're celebrating Slytherin's victory a bit much there, hmm? Lucky you..." Harry narrows his eyes quite enviously at her.

"Oh don't be so jealous. We all got our own talents and stuff. For example: I'll probably never beat you in a Quidditch match if I ever tried. Shame about your loss to Viktor Krum though."

"The odds were stacked against me from the start, and Gryffindor paid for it. Wanna take a seat next to me, hehe,  _Nymphadora_?" asks Harry.

"Don't make me break your other arm... just kidding." Tonks takes a seat on the bench before glancing mischievously at Harry. "So, I heard someone's got themselves a nice bit of French beauty, hmm?"

"Darn... Sirius must've told you. Her name's Fleur and she's great."

"Well,  _leetle Harry_ , she's still your Triwizard opponent, and I hope you don't forget that fact. Because this Tournament's a once-in-a-lifetime chance to shine, for any of you Champions."

Before Harry can reply, a familiar voice now calls down the tunnel outside the locker room.

"'Ellooooo? Are you in 'ere, 'Arry? O' where are you now?"

Grinning a slight bit, Tonks changes back to her usual purple-haired, brown-eyed look, which confuses Harry.

"Huh?"

"I'd prefer to limit the amount of people knowing what I am. Green and silver will raise questions, yeah," she replies.

Then, Fleur peeks into the room before smiling. Her sleek, soft hair falling downwards as she leans.

"Zere you are!" She then gasps a slight bit upon seeing Harry's splint. "My leetle teddy bear is broken..."

A most boisterous laugh comes from Tonks who essentially slips off the bench while doing so.

"I'm never gonna hear the end of this..." mutters a sighing Harry, before Fleur hastily speaks.

"And 'oo is zis? 'Oo are you, woman?"

"Her name's Tonks, she's my godfather's cousin. Tonks, meet Fleur, Fleur... Tonks."

"Pleasure to meet leetle Harry's girlfriend. He's sure set his sights very high, hmm, nice hair."

"Tonks." Harry narrows his eyes at her. "Give it a rest already, man, I already know what you're gonna do when we're all back at Sirius' place."

"I'm gonna give you two some privacy..." Tonks greets Harry with a wink before exiting the room, though something tells him that she's not entirely honest.

But with Fleur now alone beside Harry, the former sits on his right while tapping on the splint.

"'Ow bad ees it? Zey should 'ave sent you straight to ze 'Ospital part of zis big ugly castle! Are you in a lot of pain, per'aps?"

"I'm fine, really. Takes a lot more than a broken arm to stop this Champion."

"But you 'ave lost to Krum."

"But I have won the match and the Quidditch Cup, so we outsmarted them all. Slytherin worked as a team to get this one." Harry grins smugly before, eventually, Fleur smiles too.

"You are very clever, should I be worried in ze Tournament about you?"

"Yes you should, heh." Harry kisses Fleur on the forehead before being pulled to his feet by her.

"Come, you are going to ze 'Ospital place right now."

"One moment, please." Harry checks through his locker to slip on his hoodie before opening a zipped pocket. Then, he pulls out the Marauder's Map before opening it. "I bloody knew it!"

"Is zat not—"

"Yep, I knew she'd do just that." Harry sighs upon seeing Tonks' name right outside the locker room. "It's not polite to spy on people, you know. Unless you're me with an Invisibility Cloak. Who's the pervert now, huh, Tonks?"

"WHAT?" she shouts from outside before hurrying back into the room, after Harry's concealed the Map. "How'd you know I was listening? There are no Sneakoscopes in here nor have you used any revealing spells."

Harry smirks from getting a one-up on an Auror. "Go ask Sirius in private, I'm sure he'll tell you just how I know so much about this school."

"Zat is not a vairy polite zing you 'ave done, Mees Tonks! What if 'Arry and I were doing something private in 'ere now?"

"Oi, shhh, don't give too much info away to her," mutters Harry, while seeing a most amused expression of Tonks.

"Like what? Let me hear what my cousin's godson gets up to with girls... in  _private_. I already know he's a pervert."

"'Ow dare you!"

"Relax, she's just joking," says Harry.

"Gosh, she's a feisty one, for you that's a perfect match indeed. Anyway, see you around then, Harry, and don't go trying anything with her until both arms are working!" Tonks laughs before turning around and taking her leave from the stadium. Eventually, Harry and Fleur begin walking up the slopes to return to the castle.

"I was going to 'elp you with ze cleaning up, but zen I got delayed by many boys in ze stands."

"Why'd they approach you?" asks Harry curiously, as the pair now make their way towards the grand staircase.

"Because it is basically February soon, or did you forget what 'appens on ze fourteenth of zat month?"

Harry face-palms himself before laughing. "Valentine's Day! Oh my gosh, how could I forget? Um, there's something I'd like to do on this one, but I'm not sure if you'll agree .."

"Let me 'ear it and decide."

As they reach the fifth floor corridor, Harry informs Fleur of Ginny's poem she'd sent him back in '93, courtesy of Lockhart's hired singing dwarves. Fleur now pauses for thought while Harry makes his suggestion, before she eventually nods at him.

"Okay zen, fine. She 'as 'elped you with ze Krum problem zat you almost won. But you will spend ze day with me, yes?"

"Of course. But if you're feeling annoyed at my almost divided attention then feel free to speak your mind. Better the truth than keeping things fake."

"It is not zat bad, which could be worse. If you were going around kissing and dating every girl in sight zen I be vairy upset. But only three uzzer girls zat you like is... okay for me, I suppose." Fleur then punches Harry on his good arm. "Naughty leetle boy."

"If it makes you any happier, I don't think I'll send Hermione anything, because she's with Krum. It's bad enough that I'm still expecting Rita Skeeter to write some sort of article on us so I'd rather not give that nosy reporter anymore fuel. And Pansy says I should spend the day with you before you're gone, so she's cool with nothing on Valentine's. That just leaves Ginny."

"You still 'ave no male friends outside of Quidditch practice. Will zat ever change or are you really zis much more comfortable with girls?"

Harry sighs as they reach the entrance to the hospital wing. "The guys in my year are jerks and you know it, Slytherin ones I mean."

Madam Pomfrey practically pulls Harry towards a bed where she removes the bandages from his right arm.

"Look at all this swelling! I ought to give Professor Snape a lecture about sending his injured students my way sooner than this. Hold still, this might hurt more than a bit."

Fleur's presence certainly helps Harry through the numerous healing spells he's made to endure as Madam Pomfrey gets to work. A few minutes later sees Harry's arm healed as good as new before he finally makes his way to the Great Hall.

"You 'ave not even 'ad lunch! You must be starving, 'Arry," says Fleur, as they descend the grand staircase. "Eet is deener now, I do zink."

"Nearly five, yeah. Time sure flew by today." Harry then sighs upon entering the Great Hall where quite a few students look at him and snigger. "Great, I guess it doesn't matter that Slytherin won. Everyone's pleased that Krum beat me to the Snitch. I'm really not in the mood for all this now."

"Zen we will work together in ze second task and make sure to beat him zere, correct?"

Harry grins slyly while nodding, though he keeps Bagman's information to himself now. While making his way towards his usual seat, Harry spots Krum being admired by the Durmstrangs as well as the Slytherin minority (just over a dozen) who are against Harry.

"To Hell with those traitors," says Pansy angrily, once Harry takes his seat between her and Fleur. "How can people in our own damn House have the nerve to hate you? It should be illegal to hate our sweetheart."

"Careful, Pansy, Fleur might think you're stealing me for Valentine's Day."

"Oh please." Pansy flicks her hair before tilting her nose in the air. "I can't steal what's already mine, hmph."

Most of dinner passes by rather uneventfully for Harry, before Nott walks over with Zabini. The pair of boys and their smirks cause Harry to sigh in frustration, while Pansy and Daphne seem ready to hex them.

"Oh look, we have a true loser over here. I guess the whole world now knows that Harry Potter sucks as a Seeker indeed." Nott cackles with laughter at his own words.

"You are irritating 'Arry so please go away."

"How about you please try to be a human? Oh wait, you can't... because you're not fully one," retorts Zabini. "Don't you dare try that stupid veela charm crap on us here, you hear?"

"Just say the word and I'll hex them right here and now. Don't give a crap if we're in the Great Hall," whispers Pansy.

"What's she whispering to you, Potter?"

"None of your business, Nott. Get the hell out of my face and go sit down near Krum. Lick his balls or arse or something 'cos that's all you're good for."

"WHAT?" Nott's shouting has many students (and staff) glancing towards the Slytherin section. "Think you're pretty clever, huh?"

"Will you please, as zey say, 'pees off' and go away already? You are disturbing ze peace of our dinner with your rude be'aviour!"

Through all the quarrelling between Fleur, Pansy and Harry against Nott and Zabini, Alyssa eventually makes her way from the Ravenclaw table. The taller of two Parkinsons at Hogwarts now stands behind Nott as she speaks.

"Dude, you're making a fool of yourself so go sit down."

"Make me."

"Shouldn't have said that," says Pansy, who laughs loudly as Nott is grabbed by the scruff of his neck.

"Let him go!" says Zabini, before Harry stands up.

"Touch Alyssa and I'll make you regret it."

"Oooooh he's so handsome when he's angry," says Pansy, while looking at Harry before Alyssa drags Nott back to his seat. "Thanks, but my cousin can handle herself too."

"Yeah, so can mine, except that he probably hates me." Harry sits down to finish what's left of his dinner as the students poke fun at Alyssa dragging Nott away. "You alright, Fleur? Sorry you had to hear such insults yet again."

"It is not so much an insult eef it is true, since technically I am only three-quarters 'uman."

"Yeah, and one quarter amazing too." Harry's compliment has Sally-Anne, Tracey, and Millicent giggling with one another. "I already said that Nott guy's like cancer here."

"Zank you,  _mon chéri_ , but I am above such childishly stupid stuff, 'mph!"

Tracey looks at the indignant Fleur before pointing at Harry. "Yeah but Harry's childish as well, you know."

"But 'e is not stupid and zat is what matters. Stupid as in making fun of people for zings zey cannot 'elp. So what eef I am of ze veela descent?"

"Yeah, screw Nott and the rest!" Harry smacks his hand on the table (briefly startling the eating Pansy). "Veela descent makes you more sexy, yeah."

"Okay, calm your hormones down now," says Pansy. "Not at the food table, well, not at  _this_  food table though."

Following dinner, Harry excuses himself to spend the next few hours until curfew in the library by himself. Even Hermione seems to have left for the common room, before Harry gets to work on his anonymous poem.

"Man, this is awkward," he mutters, but eventually gets to scribbling something on parchment:

_Her eyes are as brown as a scrumptious chocolate pie,_

_Her hair's the resplendence of the sunset sky._

_So sweet and so warm, I adore your lovely form._

_She grips me like a Devil's Snare, one delectable éclair,_

_too bad she'll never beat me in the air._

"Short and sweet." Harry grins upon placing the parchment in an envelope addressed to Ginny. But with Valentine's Day just over two weeks away, he yawns before finally returning to the common room. For the next two weeks, he continues to balance academics with preparations for the Second Task. Now that this year's condensed Quidditch season is over, and the pitch being prepared for the Third Task, it's easier to focus on academic work.

"Lucky you," says Daphne, one Thursday evening in the dormitory. "No exams 'cos you're a Champ. What a bunch of cock if you ask me, hmph!"

"You jealous, hmm?" Harry leans to flick her hair before getting shoved away as she's quite busy.

Sunday, the 14th of February, finally arrives and it's one stormy day outside. Harry feels quite sorry for the foreign students (mostly the Beauxbatons girls) needing to trudge their way up to the castle. He therefore awaits Fleur in the entrance hall before breakfast while couples walk hand-in-hand all around.

"Good morning, and Happy Valentine's Day to you." Harry would cast some cleaning spells and charms to comfort her if she hadn't already taken care of it herself.

"Good morning, my leetle Valentine. You need not worry about me, of course, I am not a 'elpless damsel in distress. Did you send zat poem of yours to your friend? Eet was a nice one to read."

"Yep, had it delivered straight to her common room earlier. I even checked the Map and saw her right where the envelope should have been." Harry recalls seeing Ginny soon joined in the common room by Fred and George, who've no doubt read it aloud as more dots joined them.

Once he's settled at the end of the Slytherin table with Fleur and the girls, Harry munches down breakfast. Then, half an hour later, Hedwig swoops down to deliver him a letter. While Harry opens to read it, Fleur feeds bits of egg and bacon to the snowy white owl.

"What's it say? Who's it from?" asks Pansy eagerly, before Harry reads:

_"There should be just one, but that's easier said than done._

_Charming he may be, green eyes of ecstasy, wild hair so sexy, he's still a leetle baby._

_All that cheek, yet he probably can't handle his own broomstick._

_Oh don't be so glum, someday I'm sure he'll find the right bum."_

"The hell?" Pansy soon shrieks with laughter at Ginny's reply to Harry's anonymous poem. "You made yours too friggin obvious, silly. That's what you get for giving your own game away."

Even Fleur has to admit that it's a decent comeback. "O' my, ze very red-'air girl 'as got you on zat one. Eet is now poetry warfare, yes?"

"Oh hell yes!" declares Harry, while looking to the far left towards the Gryffindor table. Seconds later, he locks eyes with Ginny as the latter raises her brows and appears quite challenging.

Now the morning post arrives as countless owls swoop down upon many tables, with the  _Daily Prophet_  being hot on today's list. Whatever fun and laughter Harry's had thus far comes to an abrupt halt as those around him read out the front page of today's newspaper.

_**Hogwarts' Deadly Love Triangle** _

_We've all seen that spectacular Quidditch match on the 30th of January indeed, but what do we really know about the makings of that clash?_ writes Rita Skeeter. _Sit back as I reveal the truth surrounding Harry Potter's loss against Viktor Krum._

_One is a boy like no other, a young man overcompensating for the loss of his parents (and love) by surrounding himself with girls. Whether it be on friendly or romantic terms, Harry Potter is surely a walking, talking, Love Potion going around the school. Even the likes of Miss Fleur Delacour seems to have fallen for his charms, but she is not the topic of today._

_The other needs no introduction at all: Hero of the World Cup and a rising star of Quidditch that stamps out any Seeker in his path, including poor young Harry. Now what do these two have in common that led to a vicious exchange of Bludgers, blows, and crashes on that fateful Saturday? Why, it's none other than a Muggleborn fling by the name of Hermione Granger._

_She's ambitious and with a craving for famous wizards even Harry cannot hope to satisfy. One wonders if Miss Granger even considers poor Harry worth looking at now that her Bulgarian sweetheart has proved his superiority. Or perhaps she might play both sides to spy on Harry's plans for Viktor Krum, since they've already had an altercation in the library over a simple book. In fact, Viktor Krum has already invited Miss Granger to his homeland over the summer holidays while claiming that he's "never felt this way about any other girl before"._

_Where does all this leave our deprived, heartbroken young Harry? Can the underdog of the Triwizard Tournament find solace in Miss Delacour or some other girl? Doubtful._

_"We've warned him over and over to stay away from the Muggleborn, but Potter never listens to anyone," says Theodore Nott, an ambitious fourth-year student._

_"He's been eyeing her since the moment he came to this school, regardless of us trying to open his eyes," adds Blaise Zabini, fellow classmate of both Theodore Nott and Harry. "Bit of an insult to Slytherin to be eyeing Granger, no offense intended."_

_"We almost brought him to his senses in our first two years, but then Potter went and got heroically smitten over Granger," says Draco Malfoy, son of the wealthy and affluent Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. "A shame, really, since he had a bit of potential for better things."_

_Misters Crabbe and Goyle, fourth-year Slytherins as well, were unavailable for comment but nonetheless express similar views of distaste towards the scarlet woman of Hogwarts._

_In the meantime, Harry Potter still has plenty more options to choose from now that Miss Granger has thrown him away. Only time will tell how our young Champion will fare with such betrayal._

"Screw this." Harry grabs the newspaper from a startled Pansy before standing up from the table.

"Are you nuts?" Millicent watches as he holds the rolled up newspaper then dropkicks it against the nearby wall.

"Hahaha! You shouldn't let Rita Skeeter get to you like that, it's how she makes her living," says Sally-Anne.

"Nah, this time there's some truth in there that I can't take. Fleur, let's get outta here before the attention comes my way." Harry gestures for them to leave, which she agrees with.

"Stupid arse'ole news reporters, works on my nerves. I say we go find one of your empty classrooms and cosy together, 'Arry."

"Yeah, great idea."

Unwilling to face anyone today, Harry heads off to spend the rest of the morning moving about the castle. His tactic works in that they come across few unwanted faces throughout the day, especially avoiding any of the Gryffindors and Slytherins sniggering at the article. Lunch hour is spent arriving early and leaving soon as Harry seeks to stay out of the public eye for a change. It also helps to cosy up with and enjoy the rest of Valentine's Day in the presence of Fleur.


	35. The Second of Three

Avoiding the many stares and questions directed his way certainly proves to be wearisome for Harry, as the week after Valentine's Day moves on. Monday proves hard enough to steer clear of the Gryffindors in Care of Magical Creatures. This is only exacerbated by Hermione's repeated attempts to whisper to him throughout the class, to which Pansy and Millicent put themselves between them. But at the lesson's end, Hagrid calls Harry over for a pep talk on ignoring Rita's "ruddy' no good" reporting.

Tuesday brings a slightly more theoretical Defence Against the Dark Arts Class, as Moody reviews their knowledge on various Curses. Nott, Malfoy, Harry, and Pansy end up scoring full marks on the end-of-lesson mini test for today. Then, once the class has dispersed, Harry's called aside for some hushed conversation.

"You getting along with the Second Task?"

"Yes, sir, I'm as prepared as can be for the lake and its creatures."

"Good, but it's what we  _don't_  know that's got us worried... Dumbledore, McGonagall and me I mean. We've all been expecting something odd to be happening here, since you and that Parkinson girl are in it, but there's been nothing yet. What the hell's going on then? We'll just have to wait and see, and you'd better stay as alert as ever, Potter."

Lunch hour is spent as usual, but with Fleur trying to keep Harry as preoccupied as possible to avoid any confrontations.

"Zat 'Mudblood' word zey use on your friend is so feelthy, I 'ate it!"

"How'd it taste?" Harry's comment has the girls stifling their laughter.

"O', my 'Arry 'as got 'is 'appiness back, okay zen, you are funny with mocking my accent. Should I say zat I 'ate you?"

"You would never hate him," says Pansy. "But he  _ate_  you, huh?"

After nearly choking on some soup (and getting slapped on the back by Tracey), Daphne laughs. "God, Pansy, tone down the jokes. Don't let it get hot in here, girl."

Fleur seems to catch on with their sense of humour before grinning. "Zat is our leetle secret, right, 'Arry?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." His cheeks redden before Harry smiles and carries on with lunch. Next up comes Potions where Harry sits listening to Snape revising over past lessons, including the Confusing Concoction.

"If any of you mess this up again, consider a lengthy detention headed your way. There will be no excuses to fail on old work, begin."

"Easy as hell," mutters Harry, while enjoying his rather fun partnership with Pansy. Both students now work in sync over a cauldron as their concoction begins to take proper form. But while Harry sits waiting for Pansy to finish her step in the instructions, Snape looks his way.

"Potter, why are you sitting with both hands under the desk?"

"I'm not doing anything, really."

"He's thinking about Granger over there!" says Nott from across the classroom, before keeping quiet as Snape looks at him.

"Thank you, Mister Nott, but I'm addressing Potter myself."

Pansy soon hurries to Harry's defence as she lets Snape view their combined efforts thus far. He seems pleased, though he directs the compliments only at her before walking away.

"Saved my arse there, thanks. I really wasn't in the mood for nonsense now, especially with the second task next week. Oh, gosh, speaking of which..." Harry's expression turns to slight shock upon realising that Snape does keep the gillyweed in his private stores.

"Would you like me to ask for you?" Pansy tilts her head and gives Harry her exaggerated sweet expression.

"Cute, but even that face won't melt Snape. He's not going to help me as Champions aren't supposed to ask for assistance."

"Just give it a try and see, maybe?"

At the lesson's end, Harry makes the effort of approaching Snape to ask for some gillyweed.

"No. Breaking the rules again?"

"I thought this up myself, sir. There's no other way for me to get what's needed." Harry tries not to sigh in frustration as Snape repeatedly denies him access to anything in the latter's private stores.

"Don't lie to me. Should I believe that you just happened to have found the correct book at the correct time before this task? You're not Granger, Potter, and the library isn't exactly your strongest point."

"Fine, be like that then. Maybe I'll just break in and steal some for myself." Harry folds his arms indignantly and mirrors the exact pose of his Head of House now.

"You do that and you'll be sleeping without a blanket in the corridors for the next month."

"Oh come on, sir, be cool."

"Would you like detention for cheek?"

"No, sir, sorry, sir. What am I supposed to do if I'm not allowed to ask for help nor get what's needed for my task?" asks Harry desperately, since he'd rather not rely solely on the Bubble-Head Charm.

"You're the rich celebrity of this House, so go fix your own problems. Or go and ask that filthy dog for help before you end up dying in the lake!" Snape ushers him out the class before nearly slamming the door in his face.

"Jerk," mutters a sighing Harry, before turning to face Sally-Anne standing nearby.

"Sounds like that didn't go down too well, huh? What did he say?"

"Again with the celebrity thing, just like first year. Not my fault I'm rich." Harry soon mentions Snape's insult towards Sirius.

"That's quite a random thing to bring to bring up now... wait a minute. I think Professor Snape's actually given you advice in his own wicked way."

"Oh, really? And do pigs fly?"

"If you Transfigure wings on 'em then yeah," replies Sally-Anne.

Harry laughs a slight bit. "Forgot that's not funny in the Wizarding World. So, how's he supposedly  _helpin_ g me?"

"You're rich, hellooo, go buy and mail yourself some gillyweed from a store." Sally-Anne lowers her voice a fair bit now. "Your godfather's a dog and Snape mentioned death... well... the Herbology shop in Hogsmeade's called  _Dogweed and Deathcap_! He's practically given you the solution."

Throwing his arms up in the air, Harry groans before replying. "How in hell is anyone supposed to make all those connections? Cryptic bastards all over these days! And keep shush about Sirius' you-know-what, 'cos he's not official."

Thankfully, there's nobody around to overhear their conversation as Harry soon heads to the owlery. Unsure about the price of gillyweed, Harry places an order for a handful before slipping in 5 Galleons for Hedwig to deliver.

With charms being the final class of the day, Flitwick continues with the Banishing Charm, even though quite a few Slytherins already know it. Pillows go flying around the room as nearly a dozen fourth-years cast away as instructed. Meanwhile, Harry takes to standing quite suspiciously in one corner of the room.

"Now's not time to take a wa—" Pansy's joking remark is cut off as Harry shushes her.

"The hell? Nah, shhh, I'm trying to practice for the Tournament. Nonverbal magic."

"Harry." Pansy gives him a slight laugh before ruffling his hair. "I always have confidence in you but isn't this a bit too much?"

"No, no, look, I've been trying and trying and trying ever since Fleur's mentioned it a while back. Lemme try and banish this pillow nonverbally..." He takes aim while both fail to notice Flitwick approaching them from the desks to their right.

"You look constipated," says Pansy, who stands back with her arms folded as she observes Harry attempting a nonverbal spell. "Flitwick's gonna nail you for not paying attention in his class, now quit trying your nonsense."

"Oi, if I'm going underwater then I'll need to get something at least right. Even if it's just one spell... come on."

Pansy sighs. "You're wasting your time, Harry, because nonverbal magic only gets taught to us in sixth year."

"Hey, my mum was good in charms and spells so gimme a break." Harry aims his wand at the pillow while concentrating intensely on the word  _Depulso_  in his mind.

"You'll never get it riiiiight," sings Pansy teasingly. "Never get it riiiight."

Then, with a sweeping gesture of his wand, a slight blast of white sends the pillow shooting a few metres across the floor. Pansy gasps, before Flitwick surprises them by clapping too.

"That was remarkably excellent, Mister Potter, and to think you're going off on your own in my class. Take twenty points to Slytherin for that feat indeed, and it'll surely come in handy during the Tournament. But, if you're that serious about nonverbal casting then you've still got a long way to go before getting it up to scratch. Fear not, for we all start somewhere."

Harry watches as Flitwick smiles while returning to assess the rest of the class before Pansy grins.

"Hey, hey, look at you! Don't worry, I won't tell anyone who doesn't strictly ask about it." Her expression of pride brings a warm, fuzzy feeling to Harry.

"Want me to teach you what I know about nonverbal so far?" he asks, while watching Pansy banish a pillow right across the room into a basket.

"Sure, and we can all practice together too. I'll bring the others as well so it'll be a nice little party in those empty classrooms. I think you'd make a decent teacher, Professor Potter."

"Ginny already called me that over the holidays, sorry, you're unoriginal," he replies with a laugh.

"Pfft, yeah, whatever. So let's practice shut-up stuff tomorrow afternoon in the free period."

"Shut-up stuff?"

"Nonverbal casting, duh!" Pansy sniggers at him before they see out the remainder of Charms.

On Wednesday afternoon, Harry receives his order of gillyweed which he places in an empty container beside his bed. Then, he heads off to an empty classroom somewhere on the sixth floor to practice with his girls.

"You've gotta really focus on the spell in mind, and at our level it's almost guaranteed to come out weak as hell," he says, then paces up and down as he speaks. "But don't let that stop you from giving it your best shot."

While sitting in a desk and raising her hand, Daphne giggles as she passes a comment. "You look like Snape when he teaches, you know."

"Yeah." Millicent nods in agreement. "He's got the walk, the look, but just not the talk."

"Are you girls going to pay attention or do would you like detention?" Harry looks sternly at them while Pansy puts her head on her hands to watch him. "Fleur's mentioned that you gotta know exactly what it is you're trying to cast, say the word in your head, and get the wand movements right, obviously. That's just the tip of the iceberg in understanding nonverbal casting. Let's get into pairs and practice  _Everte Statum_ on each other."

"Shouldn't be too bad." Daphne stands up to pair with Tracey while Sally-Anne goes with Millicent, and Pansy approaches Harry with a smile.

"And now? What's with that grin?"

"Nevermind, so , sir, shall we dance?"

"Indeed, my lady."

Both draw their wands as Harry stands awaiting Pansy's strike. Once she finally thrusts her wand forward, a slight spark of orange shoots out which barely tips Harry over.

"It's a start, nice work." He looks around to see the others producing sparks and flickers of orange.

"Pity we ain't got any other textbooks to use," says Daphne.

"Hey, we'll work with what we've got. He's a decent teacher." Millicent, and the rest, now continue to listen as Harry recalls whatever else Fleur's explained about nonverbal casting.

"Just keep on thinking back to the basics if you get stumped. All that theory we've learnt about each spell certainly comes in handy now. See, the words aloud kinda puts some mental emphasis on them. That's why in the average amateur situation, verbal beats nonverbal except for the split-second advantage of being silent."

"Let's have an example, Banishing Charms?" Pansy looks challengingly at Harry, who nods as both take aim at each other.

"Well, you already know what I'm gonna cast so the advantage is gone. Anyway, on the count of three...one...two...three!" He thrusts his wand while yelling " _Depulso!"_ in his head.

" _Depulso_!" says Pansy aloud, before both spells hit their intended targets. Harry ends up blasted a fair bit more backwards while Pansy falls back just over a metre. "Ha, I beat the Boy-Who-Lived, so does that make me the Girl-Who-Lived?"

"My word," laughs Harry upon getting to his feet. "That makes no sense whatsoever, anyway, so did we all see the difference in nonverbal against verbal?"

"Yep, sure did and you got owned," says Millicent. "Let's all practice again."

For at least an hour per day, the group of six takes to practicing nonverbal casting in whichever empty classroom Harry stumbles upon. Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday... time seems to be racing by as the second task grows nearer with every hour.

On late Tuesday evening, Harry spots Professor Snape entering the nearly empty (except for Harry, the girls, and a few older students) common room. After shooing away the older students, Snape narrows his eyes at the fourth-year bunch.

"Well, this should be interesting." His gaze lingers on a confused Pansy. "Miss Parkinson, come with me." Snape then shows the slightest of delightful smiles, which unnerves Harry. "Hmm, yes, now  _he'd_  make an acceptable candidate to put there..."

"Me?"

"Not you, Potter! Forget that you heard anything."

Pansy follows Snape as they exit the common room while Harry whispers to the rest.

"So, Pansy's definitely a hostage for tomorrow but Snape didn't take any of you girls too. I value you all."

Tracey gives this some thought before replying. "She's definitely her cousin's to save, not yours. But why did Snape look so... happy? Hardly seen him like that before."

"Aha!" Harry claps his hands in triumph. "Isn't it obvious? He's happy because Sirius is someone I value highly! No doubt Snape will enjoy shoving him in the lake... and hoping I don't save him in time. Uh, nevermind, safety precautions are still there anyway."

"Yeah, and after tomorrow everyone will know you're that close with Sirius Black. Didn't you say that you'd prefer few people to know about your relationship to him?" asks Daphne.

"We can't hide it forever, plus I'm not denying Sirius a part in this Tournament just because it's convenient to keep him hidden. Poor man's been so long in Azkaban that it's only fair to give him some action."

"So you're happy to have your godfather shoved into the depths of the Black Lake? What if you fail to rescue him?" asks Sally-Anne.

"Relax." Harry's expression turns to confidence. "Do you really think the greatest wizard around is just gonna let people die in a competition?"

"Yeah, you're not that foolish," replies Daphne, to which Harry can't help but laugh.

"Not me, Professor Dumbledore! He's the greatest wizard around and I'm sure he'll have plans in place. Maybe the merpeople will bring the ones not rescued back up after an hour. They're just gonna be in a bewitched sleep while being protected from drowning, that's all."

"Damn, it must be boring as hell for you to know so much about the task ahead," says Tracey. "And you're certainly confident in the old Headmaster."

"Harry respects the old man, so give him a break." Sally-Anne seems to slightly approve of Harry's admiration towards Dumbledore. "He's probably a bit mental but I guess the Headmaster's a good wizard too."

"Yeah? Well, if Dumbledore's so great then how come he can't figure out why this Tournament has four people plus an underage kid in it, hmm?" Tracey looks challengingly at the group before Harry replies:

"I said he's the greatest, not that he's perfect. Nobody's perfect."

Following those words, Harry greets the girls goodnight before freshening up and making sure he gets an early night's sleep.

"Rise and shine, Mister Champion of Champions, yoo-hoo, wakey wakey already." Daphne's voice soon has Harry bolting up in bed before opening the emerald curtains. "It's twenty-past eight now, so you got an hour and ten minutes before freezing your arse off."

"How are you feeling?" asks Millicent, while sitting on her bed and stroking her cat.

"Never felt better, yeah!" Harry fist-pumps the air before running into the bathroom for a quick shower. Once finished and dressed, he exits the room with four girls at his side before being applauded in the common room.

"There he is, there he is, there's the man with a plan for today, right?" Marcus Flint stands in the centre of a semi-circle of cheering Slytherins.

"Of course I have a plan, been preparing all month long! Where are those Krum-supporting traitors now, huh?" Harry looks over the many faces of the room, but they're all on his side.

"Those idiots are already in the Great Hall finishing breakfast. Let's go and get ours now," says the young (but vocal) Irma Flint, leading the way out the common room. Meanwhile, Harry whispers to Marcus:

"She's gonna be a tough nut in the future."

"Well, she is my sister."

Breakfast is spent in the company of a boisterous Slytherin majority flashing their badges to support Harry at their table. Meanwhile, the remaining ones sit with Durmstrang at the other end.

Looking to his right, Harry sees Fleur eating her meal most nervously. "And now?" he whispers, to avoid drawing unwanted attention. "Why's such a beautiful lady so nervous?"

"Zey 'ave taken my leetle sister into ze lake..." Her hands tremble slightly as she barely gets in a bowl of soup. "Gabrielle is all alone with 'oo knows what in wherever ze 'ostages are in ze lake!"

"You need to calm down or you're going to be beaten by nerves. Trust me, I know what I'm speaking about."

"Easy for you to say, no offense, but you do not 'ave real loving family anymore. Eet is different when it is your own blood sister down zere."

" _KRUUUUUM_!" cheers the Durmstrang delegation, as well as around a dozen Slytherins, once the Champions now stand up to leave.

"Hey, I don't see Granger nor one of the Weasley twins at Gryffindor!" says Sally-Anne beside Harry. "I guess we know who else is down there, eh?"

"Makes sense," he whispers. "Hermione for Krum. Fred...George? For Angelina, which means she's thoroughly apologized to them already. Pansy for Alyssa... Sirius for me, and this Gabrielle girl for Fleur."

Many students express well wishes to Krum upon passing the Slytherin table, though there are some friendly ones for Harry too. Walking hand-in-hand yet again, Cedric and Cho both pat Harry on the shoulder while saying that he'll "be fine."

"Psst, oi!" calls a most unexpected voice while most of the crowd have left.

"The hell?" Harry looks right to see Ron Weasley approaching. "Oh, great..."

"Good luck, mate, you'll be fine."

Confused as he is, Harry nods in acknowledgment as Ron leaves to rejoin the rest of his Housemates exiting the castle.

"Try not to avoid drowning, Potter!" says a laughing Nott, while walking with the rest of the fourth-year Slytherin boys around the Durmstrang group.

Gradually, more people wish Harry as they walk past him down the castle's slopes. This includes a pat on the head by Ginny before George walks behind her while singing:

" _Her eyes are as brown as a scrumptious chocolate pie_ —"

"Shut up!" she retorts, before George gives Harry a thumbs up while continuing to tease Ginny all the way to the lake.

Cassius Warrington soon passes Harry before wishing him well and shaking his hand. Then, a most unexpected remark comes from Madam Hooch as she descends the slopes.

"I do hope you can swim as good as you often fly, Potter."

"Uh, thanks, ma'am."

Even Professor Flitwick hurries along while passing a comment to Harry. "With all your efforts and preparations I just know you'll excel today. Well, best of luck to you, Mister Potter."

"I shall hold a vigil in your memory, should you fail to emerge from the lake," says Professor Trelawney, who also happens to walk past Harry now.

"Harry, yer definitely goin' ter win! I just know it!"

Eventually, Harry reaches the lake's bank where the judges, including a tense as usual Mr. Crouch, space the Champions apart. Then, Bagman magically amplifies his voice to explain the task while Harry looks around to spot the other Champions readying themselves.

Viktor Krum seems prepared to cast a spell on himself, as does Angelina on herself. Fleur casts the Bubble-Head Charm before flashing a smile at Harry. Meanwhile, Alyssa busies herself by Transfiguring her left hand into a silvery version which glistens  beneath the morning sun. This is followed by taking aim at the ground to  begin casting whatever she's planned next.

"Where's the weed?" Harry laughs at his own words while pulling out his handful and stuffing it into his mouth to eat. Now the whistle is blown before Harry hurriedly strips off his socks and shoes, while eyeing the others nearby.

A half-shark Krum earns a tremendous applause as he dives into the lake before the Bubble-Headed Fleur gracefully follows. Then, a sort of mermaid-Transfigured Angelina leaps into the water before Harry looks at Alyssa. A few rocks nearby end up being Transfigured into some kind of breathing apparatus which she straps on while testing out her changed hand by crushing a pebble.

With a bow to his slightly confused fans, Harry simply walks into the freezing water without even appearing that much magical. Soon, the gillyweed takes effect as Harry begins his search beneath the lake. From beyond ten feet, nothing but darkness extends as far as the eye can see. Even the bottom of the lake can hardly be seen as Harry swims forward with his wand in hand while staying vigilant for the slightest bit of danger.

" _Flagrate,"_  he says in his mind as firmly as possible, and soon enough the tip of his wand lights up. Regardless of being underwater,   the fiery arrow now drawn facing ahead by Harry lingers on a bit. This comes in handy especially as he nears the first ambush spot which Bagman's mentioned. Sure enough, a few grindylow water demons emerge to strike at him, though Harry grins smugly.

_"Confringo!"_ His nonverbal spell seems notably weaker than a verbal one, but it's enough to send a blast of boiling water at his attackers. They circle around while attempting to bite him, but Harry decides to follow up with another nonverbal spell.

" _Depulso_!" A blast of white sends the grindylow trio blasted back against a rock. Angered, and with their fangs bared, they split up to surround a most annoyed Harry.

_"Flipendo!"_ Another nonverbal spell proves fairly effective in blasting them back before Harry follows up with a nonverbal stunner. Finally, they retreat which gives him time to spin around to look for his arrow. Remembering the mental path he's decided to plot en route to the merpeople's village, Harry swims on as the fiery arrow fizzles out. It almost feels too easy as he soon estimates that it's time to turn right, which he does. Every so often, Harry fires off a few spells to blast back any grindylows pestering him as he races ahead.

At some point, he gives way as Alyssa comes swimming along, and Harry almost feels pity for the unfortunate grindylow that attacks her. In a second, she retaliates by grabbing its neck with her silvery hand before tossing the choked creature aside. Then, she takes off in a slightly different direction than Harry.

" _So boringly easy, maybe I shouldn't have cheated_ ," he ponders, while swimming to bypass the second ambush spot of weeds below. More grindylows soon attack, though not in groups, and at some point Harry angrily tries blasting a particularly pestering one away. He yells but all that comes out his mouth are bubbles and " _Ablahblah Kedablah!"_

While he may be getting away with casting other spells nonverbally, this Curse requires far better precision verbally. Therefore, with not even the slightest spark of green, Harry resorts to fending off his attackers with the usual set of spells.

Farther he swims until, after about fifteen minutes, Harry spots quite a commotion happening ahead and below him. " _Damn, gotta play the hero yet again_!"

Huddled beneath a swarm of grindylows at the third ambush spot is a struggling Fleur. From the looks of things it seems her bubble has been slashed by her attackers, leaving her no choice besides preparing to quit.

_"Relashio!" "Everte Statum!"_  Shouting the Incantations in his mind, Harry descends to break up the ambush as the grindylows now target him. Before engaging them in battle, Harry swiftly draws a fiery arrow in the direction he's headed before rolling to evade the water demons. One by one, he blasts them away while swimming to reach Fleur at the bottom of the lake.

Shaking his head and grinning at her, Harry pulls Fleur into a sneaky kiss before trying his best to cast the Bubble-Head Charm. After seconds of trying, he finally manages to get it going as a bubble surrounds Fleur's head once more. Since it's magical, the bubble vanishes some of the water inside so as to provide room and oxygen for her to breathe once again.

Fleur's voice sounds truly odd as she speaks from within the bubble underwater. "Zank you vairy much, 'Arry. I was not expecting zese zings since I did not bother to research ze magical waters of zis country. And yes, you were right zat I got beaten by ze nerves."

Unable to reply except for spitting forth bubbles of water, Harry shrugs before swimming on beside Fleur. Before she can speak again, he gestures for her to be quiet as they hear a familiar song in the distance.

" _An hour long you'll have to look..._ "

Both Champions nod at each other before hurriedly swimming onwards. They pass by a painted large rock while continuing to hear the voices of the merpeople. Much like Bagman had tried to draw, Harry spots crude stone dwellings which seem to resemble an underwater village of sorts. Numerous merpeople seem to be looking out their windows while discussing and pointing at Harry and Fleur holding hands, even though the former's are webbed.

The two Champions soon reach the merpeople's equivalent of a village square, where a choir of them sing to draw the Champions' attention to a gigantic merperson statue. At its tail are five people bound by rope which they now approach.

"Gabrielle!" Fleur hurriedly swims towards what Harry sees as being a miniature version of her. He can't help but laugh even with dozens of intimidating merpeople watching them. To Gabrielle's left is a surprisingly peaceful-looking Pansy while Fred's to her left. Next, Hermione's tied between Gabrielle and...

"Sirius."

Merely bubbles emerge from Harry's mouth (much to the merpeople's amusement) as he tries to speak. With Fleur using her wand to Transfigure a stone to a knife, she now severs the thick ropes around Gabrielle.

"'Ere, consider eet a zank you gift." Fleur passes the knife to Harry who immediately frees Sirius. Then, both Champions hold a bit of a race in which Harry's webbed hands and feet has him reaching the lake's surface first. Cold air, and a roar of cheers, greet the Champions as they begin swimming towards the bank.

"Whew! I always thought the lake's full of adventure but today's just crazy! You did good, Harry, I'm very proud of you."

"The heck?" Harry looks to see Sirius suddenly wide awake, though shivering. "Were you aware of what happened down there?"

"Oh no, had a great morning's sleep in the ice cold lake. Probably as cold as when I swam from Azkaban to the shore. Here, let me help you across." Sirius holds Harry by the arm as they begin swimming together. "I guess everyone's going to know we're this close now, since the task takes those you hold most dear."

"Like I care, it's bound to come out sooner or later that you're my godfather—"

Harry's words are interrupted by a sudden gasp right behind him. Turning around, he spots Gabrielle giving him the same awestruck look which Ginny used to do.

"Well hi there, little Fleur, pleasure to meet you here."

The girl immediately looks at her older sister before talking excitedly in French, which confuses Harry. But swimming through a freezing cold lake is the last place he'd like to hold a conversation. Therefore, he hurriedly follows Sirius to the lake's bank where the latter's unexpected presence elicits quite a reaction from the surrounding stands.

"Gabrielle, eef my 'Arry 'ad not came in time zen 'oo would 'ave saved you? O' I am so sorry for letting all zis 'appen to you," says Fleur quite apologetically from behind. Her response comes in the form of more excitable French from her sister, which brings a sense of sibling longing to Harry.

Dumbledore, Bagman, as well as Mr. Crouch, now help with getting these Champions and their hostages out of the water. This is followed by Madam Pomfrey wrapping them in blankets and feeding them Pepper-Up Potions causing steam to shoot from their ears.

"Well done you two!" says Bagman, who Harry knows is certainly grateful to see him emerge victorious. "And, Harry, still hanging in there I see!"

Looking around, Harry spots Fleur jabbering with both Gabrielle and Madame Maxime as they sit metres away from him.

"Well done again, boy. You certainly continue to surprise me by each task in this Tournament," says Mr. Crouch, who seems to have softened his usual stressed expression for a few seconds.

"Thank you, sir."

Sirius soon wags a finger at the Ex-Head of Magical Law Enforcement. "Not trying to butter up my godson are you, old man?"

"No, I'm just giving praise where it's due, you've got a fine lad there, Mr. Black. My apologies yet again for all your years without a proper trial."

"What's done is done and the culprit got his just desserts." Sirius shakes Mr. Crouch's hand before Dumbledore approaches Harry.

"Some of the merpeople have informed me that you've kept Miss Delacour in the task along the way?"

"Yes, sir." Harry looks up while sitting wrapped in his blanket before Dumbledore smiles.

"It would've been the easy choice to simply keep the ambush on her, but I'm glad to see you did the right thing. Make yourself comfortable while we await the others."

"Let's go sit next to your babe, Harry,"

"Oh shush, Sirius." Harry stands up then sweeps his gaze over the excited crowd before approaching Fleur. But only now does he notice the many scrapes and cuts on her from the grindylow assault.

"She would like to say zank you too but is evidently too shy at zis moment," whispers Fleur, while gesturing towards the starstruck Gabrielle wrapped up in her blanket now. "By ze way, zat kiss was a bit yuck in ze lake water but I enjoyed it nonetheless from you."

"I guess you _are_ a damsel in distress after all," says Harry teasingly, while feeling a real sense of pity for Fleur's many cuts.

"I am not! Zat was just bad luck after all, and zese cuts will be easy to 'eal with magic... o' do look over zere!"

Fleur directs Harry's attention to Alyssa emerging with a giggling Pansy, while Krum and Hermione pop out from the lake followed by Angelina and Fred.

"Damn, everyone's done a timely job," says Bagman from nearby, as it's now fifty minutes into the allotted hour for this task. "Why so sour, Karkaroff? Your Champion hasn't done anything majorly wrong really."

"I'm in no mood for talk, Bagman."

"Vairy good, Alyssa, vairy good." Madame Maxime applauds her second Champion as the group is helped and treated upon reaching the bank. An awkward moment soon follows as Harry locks eyes with Hermione after many days (if not weeks) of ignoring her. She seems ready to run over to inquire if he's alright but Harry swiftly walks a few metres away with Sirius and the Delacours.

"You should really go and make good with Hermione," says Sirius.

"Krum already won our match so let him be with her, I don't much care anymore."

"Drop ze topic, because zey are announcing ze scores now." Fleur brings her finger to Harry's lips as Bagman speaks to congratulate everyone on behalf of the judges. Using the information provided by the merchieftainess, Bagman declares that each Champion is to be scored as follows:

"Viktor Krum, with an incomplete but effective Transfiguration returned fourth with his hostage. However, he had scratched Miss Granger a slight bit with his teeth during the severing of the ropes. We've decided to award him forty points. That's a total of eighty now."

The crowd whistles and cheers, as does Karkaroff who smiles at Krum.

"Angelina Johnson, who's Transfigured herself into a fine mermaid with a graceful rescue of her hostage returned last today. We have decided to award her forty-four points. That's a total of eighty-three now."

A tremendous applause comes from most of the Hogwarts crowd in the stands, while Angelina smiles slightly with Fred.

"Alyssa Parkinson, who's gotten quite creative with her Transfiguration, arrived third with her hostage. We therefore award her forty-five points putting her total score at eighty-six now."

The Beauxbatons crowd certainly makes themselves heard as they applaud the smiling Alyssa (who's also hugged by Pansy).

"Fleur Delacour, who demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, had managed to retrieve her hostage as we will describe next. We therefore award her forty points, and this puts her total at eighty-three."

Fleur turns to look at Harry after Bagman's announcement. "To be 'onest, I actually did not expect you to 'elp me like zat, so, sorry for doubting you."

Quite a few in the crowd appear quite surprised (and confused) at Fleur's relatively low score, especially considering that she emerged second behind Harry.

"Harry Potter has made good use of gillyweed to navigate his way around. In addition, the merpeople have informed us that Mr. Potter detoured along the way to fend off many grindylows from ending Ms. Delacour's performance. In addition to Mr. Potter replacing her slashed bubble with his own well-cast Bubble-Head Charm, he also reached and freed his hostage first. There can be little doubt that such a performance deserves no less than fifty out of fifty. Total for him is now on ninety-three!"

" _SLYTHERIN FOR THE CUP_!" cheers most of Harry's supporters, as the crowd lets loose with a tremendous applause. Meanwhile, Sirius proudly holds his godson's hand high while beaming with pride, which still confuses a fair bit of spectators.

"You're in pole position now, Harry. You got this Triwizard Tournament in the bag!" Sirius can hardly show anymore joy, and neither can Harry who forcibly withholds his tears. Any thoughts of only getting this far through cheating are briefly nullified by acknowledging that he shouldn't even be here in the first place. The scores are soon put up once more to reflect the current standings after this task:

_Potter: 93_

_Parkinson: 86_

_Johnson: 83 Delacour: 83_

_Krum: 80_

Bagman carries on speaking, "Our third task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June. Champions, you'll be notified of what's to come about one month beforehand. Thank you all for coming out and supporting these Champions in what has been a tremendously good show thus far."

As the crowd remains in boisterous spirits, Harry and the rest of the Champions are led inside by Madam Pomfrey to get some dry clothes. But instead of heading straight for the cheers of the Great Hall, Harry stays a good deal longer in the Hospital Wing with Fleur. Though neither be injured, they take the opportunity of some peace to reflect upon the Tournament.

"Maybe I was a bit wrong at ze start, per'aps you deserve to win more zan any of us."

"Nah man, don't go giving up just because you got saved by me. Fight on like the witch I know you can be, my pretty."

Fleur whispers in response. "I do not understand you, I mean, eet is so obvious to me zat Meester Bagman must 'ave 'elped you back at 'Ogsmeade. Do not deny it, I zought as much by putting two and two together. 'E calls you aside, zen you navigate your way so easily to ze merpeople's village? Come on."

"You're right, I..." Although Harry's whispering, he suddenly feels a sense of shame in his confession.

"We 'ave all cheated so far, 'Arry, especially with knowing ze dragons for ze first task. But ze fact zat you took ze time to not let me lose points tells me zat you really are a decent boy."

"Don't you mean decent  _leetle_ boy?" Harry's remark elicits a soft laugh from Fleur, as the pair remain sitting in chairs near a lit stove keeping them warm.

"Yes, you certainly are a decent leetle boy. Far more zan I expected from ze idiot I 'ad met back at ze world cup."

They're soon rejoined by Gabrielle and Sirius who spend the next hour in the (thankfully) empty Hospital Wing as the morning swiftly moves on to lunch. With classes cancelled for today, many decide to remain in the Great Hall afterwards. This includes even some of the outside guests such as Gabrielle (who sits beside Fleur and stares at Harry) as well as Sirius. The latter nudges Harry before looking left and giving a thumbs up to Snape glaring at him from the staff table.

"Hey, Harry," calls Yasmin from the far right. "Why exactly was Sirius Black your hostage today?"

While looking at Sirius, Harry receives a nod before replying quite loudly:

"Because he's my godfather, hell yeah!"

"Whaaat?" Yasmin delivers the news which soon spreads like wildfire throughout the table... and beyond.

"No sense in hiding it anymore. Might as well beat Rita Skeeter writing about it in her article on today's task anyway," mutters Sirius. Eventually, he starts cracking jokes on Slytherin which elicit narrow-eyed responses from Harry's friends.

"What gives you the right to make fun of our House, Mister Gryffindor?" asks Daphne, though keeping her tone civil.

"Oh please, little lady, most of my 'esteemed' family had been here. However, you see this boy right here?" Sirius gestures towards the eating Harry. "He's not only my godson but also a better version of my late brother. Regulus was a Seeker too but Harry's just better...  _overall_."

"Hey!" Pansy punches Sirius on the shoulder. "Don't make fun of your own family, even if they were bad."

"Let us all eat in peace and bask in the sweet taste of Slytherin being on top of this Tournament." Harry grins as they carry on eating and chatting, before it's eventually time for the guests to be taken home.

 


	36. Crouch's Confession

The rest of February passes quite swiftly while many Champions, and some hostages, spin all manner of heroic stories regarding the second task. This includes Harry who loses track of the amount of times he retells fending off many grindylows to save Fleur Delacour. A classic structure of 'hero saves the girl' seems to elicit much approval throughout the Slytherin majority.

Without Quidditch to occupy his time, Harry is left to forgo practice and simply keep up with his coursework instead. Regardless of having no exams, he still tries to prepare as much as he can for what he's been told to be a maze ahead. Bagman's tip-off regarding all manner of creatures being in there has Harry spending many afternoons working his spells. Even better, in his opinion, is Moody soon taking a joint class on one Wednesday afternoon in mid-March with Gryffindor and Slytherin.

"Hex-deflection!" says Tracey quite excitedly. "What an opportune moment to practice for your next task."

"Uh, Champions aren't allowed to attack each other and I'm pretty sure there's not gonna be any people we're up against," says Harry, as he and the girls soon reach Classroom 3C. "But why should I say no to watching everyone get hexed like hell?"

Just as he'd expected, Harry barely enters the classroom before hearing Moody give a laugh to his far right. This is followed by a blast of light headed his way.

" _Protego_!"

The hex ends up being deflected to the left, hitting the ceiling with a bang.

"Excellent! Fifteen points to Slytherin for being on your guard, Potter. Now we all see some of why he's on top of the Tournament, ninety-three out of a hundred."

"Big deal, Viktor Krum will end up winning this whole thing. Don't count him out," says Nott irritably, before Harry swears at him quite loudly.

"Alright, break it up boys...hmm, actually, have at it then! A little entertainment before we get down to business." Moody's encouragement of letting the two Slytherins fight has quite a few Gryffindor girls gasping in disbelief. The boys (and Slytherin girls) eagerly watch the action unfold as Harry and Nott both launch spells at each other.

"Think you're pretty special don't you, Potter?" Nott fires a Leek Jinx which Harry evades before taking aim.

"You like that pumpkinhead don't you? Well, what you see is what you get...  _Melofors_!"

Everyone but the other Slytherin boys now roar with laughter as Nott's head is encased in a pumpkin, though Hermione seems to catch on with Harry's joke. She seems unamused but also in slight pain from the bandages which Harry only now notices on her hands.

" _Stupefy_!"

_"Expelliarmus_."

After smashing the conjured pumpkin, Nott finds himself swiftly disarmed. Harry then tosses his wand back to him as Moody settles down the class. It seems the Professor would personally be flinging hexes at everyone today, which they would have to deflect. Midway through the lesson (with many students suffering from twitchy ears), Harry whispers while standing beside the annoyed Hermione.

"What happened to your hands?"

"As if you even care."

"Fine, be like that then, but I guess it's a waste trying to be nice to you again, Viktor's BreadKrum."

Harry hurriedly casts a counter-hex right as Moody takes aim at him. But as they spend over an hour being put through their paces, many students eventually end up being hit including Harry, though he fares better than most today. Once the lesson concludes, he spots Hermione discussing something with the Professor.

"Come on, let's leave Granger alone. She's still going nuts over all her hate mail following Rita's article," says Pansy, leading Harry away from an upset Hermione who's questioning Moody.

With nothing but homework, Triwizard preparations, and classwork to get through, Harry finds himself quite occupied as March turns to April then eventually May. Even his free time in empty classrooms with Fleur seems slightly more academic than romantic. This is particularly evident in the days following Harry tipping Fleur off about magical creatures in the maze.

"Zey are putting even a dementor in ze maze? Surely zat cannot be right... maybe Bagman was mistaken because zat is far too dangerous. Even more dangerous zan a dragon!"

"I'll have to double check with him when we're 'officially' told about it. But for now let's see your Patronus, I've always wanted to see it."

What follows is a breathtaking display of one silvery unicorn gracefully galloping across the room, eliciting a most proud expression from Fleur.

"Is she not beautiful, 'Arry?"

"Just like its caster, yes. But mine's wicked and wild... and I think it's time you saw something amazing." Harry begins casting his Patronus while Fleur seems puzzled.

"We all already know your one is ze snake, but what can be so amazi— _MERDE_!" She almost shouts upon seeing Harry speaking in Parseltongue to the silvery length of serpent. "Y-You are what zey call ze Parselmouth? But 'ow can zat be? Do you 'ave any family 'oo speaks ze tongue?"

"No, and that's what makes it weirdly cool, huh?"

"But zat is 'eredity! I 'ave done some reading when you said you are in Slytherin 'Ouse. Eet is only people 'oo come from Meester Slytherin 'imself 'oo can speak zat tongue."

"Well maybe I'm just so awesome that I just can? No sense in stressing over something that doesn't make any sense."

Fleur suddenly folds her arms and looks quite crestfallen as she makes a sudden realisation. "Zen I guess you win zis maze so super easy since ze Patronus can fly and you can speak to yours, o' well."

"You're a genius, Fleur! That's a hectic tactic even I never thought of!" Harry grabs the fairly sulking girl into a tight hug. "Friggin hell, why struggle when I can just send my snake up and ask it where to go?"

"You nevair zought of it?" Fleur adopts an incredulous look. "Now I feel so stupid for telling you! Where is ze fun of getting lost in a maze eef you can know where to go?"

"Ugh, fine." Harry leans on the desk beside Fleur. "I tell you what: since you've practically given me the win I... well... maybe I'll wait for you at the finish?"

"Do whatever you want, nobody is going to be friends in ze maze. I 'ope zis does not affect our friendship zereafter?"

"How can I ever hate a sweetheart like you?"

"Very good, my leetle snake mouth." She grabs Harry into a brief kiss before both Champions take to duelling in the classroom. If not for Fleur's constant use of nonverbal attacks, Harry knows he'd be winning against her. But he takes being disarmed in stride before surprising Fleur with his remarkable Shield Charm as, eventually, their final round sees Harry getting a win.

"In your face!"

"O' look, 'e is growing up so fast and actually disarming me, 'ow cute."

Their afternoon ends with both Champions casting Patronuses one more time, though Harry soon hears a voice as he smiles at Fleur.

"Ssstop ssstanding around and kiss the babe already. You know you wanna."

"What is zat Patronus saying? All I 'ear is 'issing," says Fleur, while watching Harry face-palming himself as the snake slithers nearby.

"Let's just say that a Patronus is like an extension of one's personality."

With his friends thoroughly stressed over the impending exams, Harry decides to leave them be and spend more time with Fleur towards the end of May. She doesn't seem to mind the extra attention and happily accommodates Harry during her preparations in empty classrooms. Even Alyssa happens to join in on occasion and it's clear that she's a far better duellist than Harry's expected.

"Well, my parents are very supportive, you know. Taught me a fair bit of skills and that's why I've won so many duelling trophies over the years," she says proudly, while Fleur scoffs.

"Do not forget zat I 'ad beaten you in a few competitions as well, so you 'ave not always won."

Alyssa laughs at this. "Oh please, most of the time it was me who won first place because I'm just so badass."

"Well, 'Arry over 'ere is probably going to win zis Tournament outright, do not underestimate 'im."

"Huh, is that right?" Alyssa folds her arms and gives Harry another appraising look. "Top score doesn't mean it's over yet. There's still one more task to go and I'm pretty sure there's a Cup for a reason. I'm coming for you, Harry, hehehe."

"You can bring it on because I'm not scared," he replies firmly, while Fleur also nods.

"May ze best man or woman win zis Tournament and zen we can all celebrate together. Party much, yes, before it is back to France for us both. Per'aps 'Arry can come and visit? Eet will be lovely to 'ave 'im at our graduation ceremony. O' yes eet will be so fancy!" Fleur cups her hands on her cheeks while staring wistfully into the air. "'Ave you bought your ceremony dress yet?"

"Meh, that stuff can wait until the Triwizard Tournament's done and dusted. So, they'll be telling us more about the third task tomorrow which gives us one month to finalize our preparations. You two better watch your backs for when I let loose!" Alyssa grins smugly while Fleur smiles with Harry.

"Eet is getting a bit late now, yes? Let us walk back to ze carriage while zere is still light. 'Arry, would you like to join us? And no, we will not do anything to 'urt you along ze way."

"Alright, lemme just check if the coast is clear because I'd rather people not see us all three together now..." Harry opens the Marauder's Map to assess from the second floor all the way to the castle's grounds. "Again?"

"What's got my cousin's boyfriend so stumped, huh?" Alyssa leans to try and see what's piqued Harry's attention on his Map.

"This is the fourth time I've seen them together in that office, seriously!" He glances once again at  _Bartemius Crouch_ and  _Alastor Moody_  in the latter's office. "What the hell can they be discussing today? And shouldn't Mr. Crouch be at work now or is Percy Weasley really that keen on sucking up?"

"What if they're like... you know... I mean... man-on-man?" Alyssa's eyes widen as she gives this some thought. "Ugh, no! Not Moody and Crouch, they're too damn old to think about, yuck."

"What's going through your mind?" asks Harry, while looking up at the amused girl whose eyes almost gleam with mischief.

"She is always like zis in school, making ze same naughty jokes like you, 'Arry."

"Hey, here she comes! I told little P we'd be here now. See? She knows how to move about without drawing attention." Alyssa points out the dot of Pansy approaching this very classroom now. "Oh yeah, forgot you don't want anyone actually knowing about this Map."

Harry nods in agreement before concealing it once more. "Yeah, Mischief Managed. No offense intended, even if Pansy's a good friend but we all have our secrets."

The door soon opens as Pansy beams with a smile. "I didn't expect you'd still be here, Alyssa. Thought you might play a trick on me and hurried back to the carriage. Everything alright? What you ladies, and prettyboy, practicing today?"

"What do you think?" Alyssa ruffles her giggling cousin's hair. "Some Patronus stuff, duelling where I came out tops again, and just going over some spells."

"Curfew's a bit later for us all near Summer. Care to go for a stroll around the corridors, just for fun?" asks Pansy. "It's near eight now anyway."

"I don't see why not, and nobody can suspect a thing if it's just us two." Alyssa greets Harry for the night before exiting the room with Pansy.

"I zink zey are wanting to see ze sunset together again, 'ow vairy cute. Eet is easy for me to understand why Alyssa likes 'er cousin so much. She probably sees ze Pansy girl much like I see Gabrielle."

"Yeah, yeah, don't get all happy. Bet it's gonna turn nasty when we're all fighting each other in the maze, huh?"

"Maybe I will not fight you...  _maybe_." Fleur gives a slight yawn before suggesting that they also head off to see the sunset. "Where 'as all ze time gone zis year?"

Harry laughs as the two Champions exit the classroom and begin making their way down the corridor.

"Who's the one that said there's so much time still left? Remember around the end of last year when you mentioned January, February, etc? It's bloody May already!"

"O' I 'ave an idea! 'Ow about we quickly go walk in ze entrance 'all to see zose big hourglasses again? 'Oo is leading ze 'Ouse Cup total I wonder?" Fleur leads Harry by the hand as they descend the grand staircase on their way to the entrance hall.

"Gotta be Slytherin, gotta be Slytherin... come on." Harry crosses his fingers before soon stopping at the hourglasses and groaning. "Awww crap! Gryffindor's actually in the lead with 425 points."

"What about ze Quidditch points you 'ave all gotten?"

"If you weren't laughing at Professor Dumbledore during his opening speech you'd remember that this year's been different. Because of how condensed and slightly unfair everything was they decided to half the Quidditch points in these hourglasses. So Gryffindor got 295 while Slytherin got 300 from our finals. Hufflepuff on 200 and Ravenclaw on 150. That's before whatever other points came and went throughout this year. Check out how hard Ravenclaw students have been working... they're actually sitting on 365 total points now. Hufflepuff's also making a push on 335 while Slytherin's on 411."

"Look zere!" Fleur points out a few rubies dropping through as Gryffindor moves to 430 points. "Someone 'as gotten zeir Gryffindor 'Ouse some points."

"Probably Hermione doing some extra work or something somewhere. Oh, what? Come on..." Harry sighs as sapphires trickle down to put Ravenclaw on 375.

"O' no, look at zem going back up now," says a giggling Fleur, as emerald jewels are seemingly sucked back into the top glass with Slytherin now sitting on 405.

"Whatcha guys looking at? Ah, I almost forgot to come and check these beauties out," says Alyssa, who approaches with Pansy from behind Harry and Fleur. "Oi, little P, why aren't you helping your House retain the Cup?"

"What? I was walking around with you, duh. Look at 'em badgers trying their luck!" Pansy points out the yellow diamonds trickling down to put Hufflepuff on 340 now.

Fleur glances quizzically at her before laughing. "I 'ave noticed zat you always make fun of zat 'Ufflepuff 'Ouse, why?"

"They're just so silly and think they're better than what they really are," replies Pansy haughtily. "Right, Harry? How about you t—"

"POTTER!"

Moody's sudden appearance has Harry nearly jumping up in fright before turning around. It hardly helps that Moody looks even wilder than usual as his magical eye looks over the startled girls.

"Professor Mo—"

"Not you, Parkinson, certainly NOT YOU! Potter, come with me right now. There's something of the utmost importance we have to discuss."

Fleur now adopts a suspicious look. "Are you 'elping 'im more with the To—"

"Be quiet, lass! This isn't so much about cheating. Come!" Moody limps over to grab Harry by the shoulder before hauling him off to the grand staircase.

"P-Professor? What's happening? What's wrong with you?"

"Be quiet, Potter, you won't believe what I have to show you."

"What?"

"I said be QUIET!"

They soon reach Moody's Office on the second floor where he almost kicks open the door and shoves Harry inside.

"Take a seat NOW."

With a confusingly bewildered expression, Harry takes a seat in the chair while watching Moody take a sip from his hip flask.

"Bartemius, talk, and I don't care what you think! Potter deserves to hear this goddamn rubbish."

Only now does Harry notice Mr. Crouch sitting on another chair nearby, and he certainly looks beside himself.

"Are you mad? In front of him? I thought you promised to keep this a sec—"

"Secret from suspicious individuals, like Parkinson's family. But Potter's clearly on the right side so start talking before I get Professor Dumbledore to come down here," growls Moody, while sitting in the third chair in his office.

"Fine..." Mr. Crouch gives Harry a long, appraising look before carrying on through heavy sighs. "My son, Bartemius, is alive and out there. He never died in Azkaban as everyone thinks because I...well... I used Polyjuice Potion to have my wife take his place. So she's the one that died and got buried at the prison. As for Bartemius... I'm ashamed to say that I've kept him under the Imperius Curse all these years... until he broke free over last Summer and killed my house elf, Winky. She was ordered to keep him restrained and take care of him while I've kept him under an Invisibility Cloak all that time. It was my wife's dying wish not to let him perish in Azkaban."

Harry's mouth falls open from shock as he's heard before, from others, that Bartemius Jr. had been a loyal Death Eater. A fist slammed against the nearby table soon brings Harry out of his thoughts as Moody shakes his head.

"Can you believe this man? You know I've always respected you, Barty, but this is just... I don't know. Do you realize what'll happen to you if the Ministry finds out?"

"OF COURSE I REALIZE AND THAT'S WHY I'VE KEPT IT A SECRET!"

"Don't you dare yell in my office! Look, sentimentalities aside, we have got to inform Professor Dumbledore immediately. I'm telling you, Potter, that Crouch Jr. was... is... one clever, conniving kid. Almost reminds me of you in some way. If he's really out there then I'm certain he's got something to do with this Tournament."

"How can you be so sure?" asks Harry quite suspiciously.

"Because Professor Dumbledore insists that Voldemort's still out there, and if he does then so do I. We can't rule out the possibility of Crouch Jr. having reunited with his master and planning who knows what now. You'd better do your explaining real good in the Headmaster's office, Barty."

Moody hurriedly leads both Harry and a nervous Mr. Crouch across the second floor towards the end of the gargoyle corridor. After muttering the password, he enters the Headmaster's office where Professor Dumbledore seems quite surprised to see them.

"Alastor, Bartemius... Harry? Can I be of assistance?"

"Barty, talk, now!" orders Moody, before using his staff to smack Mr. Crouch over the arm.

"I, well, where to start..."

Harry sees Dumbledore's usually smiling expression swiftly drop as a trembling Mr. Crouch tells everything he's been hiding over the years. From the Azkaban deception to Crouch Jr. being on the loose, it's clear that things are far more dangerous than previously thought.

"But... why tell us all now?"

"That is a very good question, Harry," says a thoughtful Dumbledore.

"Perhaps I've given this entire scenario some thought and come to the conclusion that the Tournament's might've been tampered with?" Mr. Crouch seems quite ashamed from his earlier confession.

"Or have you finally realized your mistakes in neglecting your own family — your own son?" Dumbledore seems as stern as Harry's yet seen him this year. "Afraid to bear the weight of knowing something might happen to our resident underage Champion here? Does Harry Potter remind you of Bartemius Junior?"

"Since when have you ever had a heart, Barty?" asks Moody quite condescendingly. "Suddenly grown one now? Bah! You're probably just worried your son's going to be coming after you soon. After all, he did spend some time in Azkaban."

Mr. Crouch simply looks ashamedly at the ground, unable to give a proper response as Moody continues to berate him for his past actions.

"That's enough, Professor Moody," says Dumbledore. "Harry, go get Professor Snape and meet us at the Quidditch stadium."

"What?" Harry's expression turns to surprise as he looks up at the pensive Headmaster.

"Whatever we're planning to do now, please bear in mind that Mr. Potter still has no choice but to compete in this Tournament. He cannot simply go down there to quit," says Mr. Crouch firmly.

"I still say the safest option would be to let Potter enter the maze, immediately shoot up red sparks, then be escorted out. We'll keep a close eye on him after that as the Tournament gets done. And what of the Parkinson girl?" Moody narrows his eyes while appearing quite bemused. "I still don't understand why she's in here? How could somebody fool the Goblet twice? Could she be in on whatever plan too? Perhaps Snape ought to prepare some Truth Serum for her."

"No." Dumbledore's words come steadfast and firm. "There's no proof at all that she's 'in on whatever plan'. I refuse to subject our guest student to an interrogation based on a mere hunch. Harry, you've grown to know her a fair bit, so what's your impression of Miss Parkinson?"

"I'm not sure really—"

"See!"

"Quiet, Alastor, and let Harry continue."

"—well, she's decent enough as a friend and very loving of her cousin. I dunno, but she just doesn't strike me as a conniving, evil girl."

Moody gives a derisive laugh before slapping Harry on the back. "Have you learnt nothing? That's the perfect cover for probably a spy or conspirator... or assassin or something. This is Bartemius Jr. and possibly Voldemort too we're talking about here.  _Harry Potter's_  name coming out of that Cup is a clear sign there's something amiss in this school this year."

"Oh there's something amiss every year..." Harry laughs softly until seeing Dumbledore shake his head.

"Now's not the time for jokes, Harry. Go get Professor Snape as I've asked, then we'll do a thorough inspection of the Third Task."

"What?" Mr. Crouch seems taken aback by this suggestion. "With Potter as well? That's essentially gifting him the Cup right there!"

"I still say he should give up early after starting the task. That ought to satisfy his conditions of participation to avoid breaching the contract," says Moody.

"I'm not gonna just give up, not with most of my House backing me to win! How would that be fair on me?"

"I agree with Harry," says Dumbledore. "Even with all this uncertainty we cannot deny that he's put in a tremendous amount of effort thus far. Besides, everyone's basically cheated in this Tournament, it's tradition. What's a simple thing like knowing the path and obstacles compared to a potential trap on Harry's life by Lord Voldemort?"

"But how can we truly know for certain that _Voldemort's_ involved with a Tournament which  _I've_ _helped to_ set up?" asks Mr. Crouch.

"Have you ever mentioned it at home?" asks Moody.

"I might have, yes, with Winky..."

"Then at some point your son, who you've foolishly kept prisoner like an idiot, could've overheard. You said he 'broke free and killed his way out', people start getting aware when they're resisting the Imperius Curse. Thought a clever man like you would've known that!" Moody frowns at Mr. Crouch before Harry hurriedly exits the office.

With sunset casting many a golden light through the corridors, Harry continues sprinting towards the dungeons while ignoring any passersby. Soon, he reaches Snape's office before knocking quite loudly on the door, which swings open.

"I knew it had to be you—"

"Professor Snape, sir, the Headmaster's sent me to call you urgently. We've all got to meet at the Quidditch stadium immediately!" Harry leans against a wall to briefly catch his breath while Snape glares at him.

"This had better  _not_  be a joke, or—"

"I will get detention or end up sleeping out in the corridors, yes, sir."

While keeping up with Snape's speedy strides, Harry wonders if Professor McGonagall would also be informed of tonight's events. But then he reckons she might not take too kindly to having the Slytherin Champion practically waltzing through the growing maze now.

By the time the pair of Slytherins reach the Quidditch stadium, the sun seems to have set a fair bit, darkening the grounds only slightly. After turning through a gap in the stands, Harry and Snape make their way to a vastly different Quidditch pitch. No longer smooth and flat, there certainly appears to be well-grown hedges resembling a maze, though it feels a bit unfinished.

"You're only supposed to be brought here tomorrow, Potter, so what is the meaning of this?" Snape gives Harry a glowering look before Moody, Dumbledore, and Mr. Crouch approach.

"—as I've said, I fully trust Severus, Alastor."

"Well I certainly do not!" Moody shoots an equally sour look at Snape now, before nodding at Harry.

"Professor Snape," says Dumbledore. " Events have transpired that require our immediate attention. Bartemius, go ahead and explain to Harry's Head of House."

Snape's expression turns from surprise to worry and then pondering before he shakes his head at Mr. Crouch. "Idiot fool! Do you have any idea how  _talented_  your son really was... is?"

"That's what I've been saying this whole time." Moody sighs before continuing. "How many little chats haven't we had, Barty, and yet only now do you choose to reveal such a crucial bit of information!"

"But aren't there other 'Death Eaters' still free as well?" asks Harry, who spots the brief frown by Snape.

"Why, there sure are!" Moody briefly darts his eyes to Snape before continuing to speak. "But most of 'em are certainly cowards and liars too scared to seek out their master... assuming he's still alive as Dumbledore suspects. Crouch Jr. though... well.. he's as dedicated and nasty as even the Lestranges! If Voldemort's out there then Crouch Jr. would definitely seek him out, and that's what's got us concerned."

Mr. Crouch, while still highly ashamed, soon speaks. "We're guessing that this Tournament's been tampered with—"

"Not  _guessing_ , it's right-in-your-face obvious that someone's got it in for Harry Potter," retorts Moody, before Dumbledore replies.

"And our fifth Champion, Alyssa Parkinson, could be at risk too, lest we forget. Now, Harry, you are to be escorted throughout this maze by Professor Snape. At the slightest sign of something amiss, send up red sparks. Don't worry though, this isn't anything official so you'll still be in the Tournament," says Dumbledore.

"How very convenient for you to travel through this maze, Potter. Perhaps we should leave him here and search it ourselves?" asks Snape.

"You of all people should know how some of the darkest traps might work! If they've got it in for Harry Potter then we need to personally bring him into the maze. Leave nothing to chance before he has to go in alone next month," replies Moody. "Or are you trying to hide your master's plans?"

"That's enough!" Dumbledore swiftly defends the unamused Snape. "I will not repeat what I've said earlier. Now, Professor Moody, stay here and keep watch over Mr. Crouch while we're busy."

"Oh, I sure will keep watch over this idiot." Moody shoots Mr. Crouch a disapproving look.

With Dumbledore swiftly patrolling the perimeter of the maze (whose hedges have grown to be over half their full height) Harry sets off with Snape.

"Don't expect me to hold your hand now. This is probably nothing like the finished product. No beasts nor tests, nothing... a shame really."

"Maybe we should do a test and duel each other in here? See what happens when spells are cast, mine specifically, since Professor Moody reckons I could trigger stuff." Harry looks questioningly at his Head of House before the latter raises his wand.

"Try not to cry when you get hurt," sneers Snape, before nonverbally firing a stunner which Harry blocks with a shield charm.

" _Everte Statum_!"

Snape easily deflects the spell back at Harry, sending him flying backwards. "Weak, Potter, shame.  _Expelliarmus_."

Rolling to evade a superbly cast disarming charm, Harry gets up and grins.

"What's with that stupid smirk on y—"

Trying his best to concentrate through the taunts, Harry manages to fire off a nonverbal banishing charm which Snape swiftly blocks. The sudden silent casting has Snape simply looking at his student, while Harry reckons he'll never ever be complimented by this man.

"Enough! Let's move on."

Carrying on through the mostly-finished maze, they stay on high alert with each step taken. Snape also seems to be casting many spells to sweep over the layout of the maze, perhaps hoping to reveal some sort of trap. But try as they might, even after racing through practically the entire task, they find nothing amiss. Eventually, Harry and Snape reach the centre of the maze where the Cup is meant to be placed. However, there are still no signs of foul play.

"Not a single bad thing, and it's the third task already. Then why were Alyssa and I even forced into this Tournament?"

"There's still one whole month until the task officially takes place. So don't drop your guard, Potter."

"You really like saying my surname, don't you..uh, sir?"

Using a spell that he states is forbidden for Champions to try during the task, Snape creates temporary holes in the hedges as they begin to exit. Once out of the maze, Harry spots Dumbledore, Mr. Crouch, and Moody inspecting the Triwizard Cup.

"Nothing at all here," sighs Moody. "Take it through the maze if you'd like to be extra certain, but it's clean as well."

"It seems that everything is in order," admits Dumbledore. "However, I do suggest we perform weekly checks on the maze right up until the 24th."

"Yes, very good idea indeed. I also suggest that nobody comes here by themselves... never know who or what might be lurking in the shadows," says Moody.

"Well," says Snape in a condescending manner. "Let us also hope that whatever obstacles are placed in the maze can prevent Potter getting bored since he's already gotten a thorough preview."

"I'm leaving nothing to chance. However, we should head up to the castle and discuss things further. Barty, what are your plans?" asks Moody, though Dumbledore spots the notably worried look on Mr. Crouch's face.

"Let us see this Tournament to its end before making any rash decisions. Knowing Cornelius Fudge, he'd swiftly throw Bartemius here in Azkaban for what he's done," says Dumbledore.

"And that would be very ironic," adds Snape, while looking at Mr. Crouch before Dumbledore nods.

"Your son is dangerous, Bartemius, and there can be little doubt of that. If you could put in sufficient leave at work then I can arrange for you to stay at Hogwarts for the time being. Until we know exactly what's happening around here I don't suppose we should leave anything to chance."

Mr. Crouch sighs in relief. "I have no idea how to confess this story to Fudge without getting dumped in Azkaban. Can you imagine the scandal of that?"

"Nevermind the scandal," says Harry. "You're probably  _hated_  in that prison... I'd feel sorry if you were to end up in there with all those people you're responsible for imprisoning."

"Yes!" Mr. Crouch nods most nervously. "That as well! Even the hardiest of wizards succumb to the terrors of Azkaban... whether it be external or in your own head."

As the group of five exit the stadium, Harry spots the staff laying down a few spells to prevent entry to the maze.

"We'll drop these defences come the day of the task," explains Moody. "In the meantime, anyone else looking for access will have to request permission and be kept under observation."

Grateful for the efforts being put in to ensure every Champion's safety, Harry soon follows the group back to the castle. Still pondering in thought, he spends the rest of the night in his dormitory without informing anyone of this evening's events.

 


	37. The Third of Three

The final Thursday of May sees the Champions officially being informed about the maze. But it's nothing Harry, Fleur, and Alyssa's not already aware of although they do try their best to act surprised. After pulling Harry aside for some private talk, Bagman happily accepts 50 Galleons in exchange for informing him exactly of what's to come.

"I've already mentioned some back at the Hog's Head, but hope your mind's ready for some action. We weren't able to successfully procure a dementor from Azkaban so there'll be a boggart in its place, hope your biggest fear isn't too nasty. So it's mostly skrewts and an acromantula... oh yes, get ready to face some deceptive mist then a sphinx with her riddle."

"Sphinx? Are those that stuff that resemble half lions and people?" Harry appears quite surprised to hear that they actually exist.

"Precisely, they either let you pass if you're correct, let you turn around if you keep silent, or pounce if you're wrong. I'm sorry to say that I don't know what the riddle will be. Well, that's that I guess, pleasure doing business with you, Harry. Here's to a winning performance in the Triwizard Tournament!" Bagman hurriedly shakes his hand then returns to casually chat with the others before anyone gets suspicious at the stadium

Armed with what he hopes to be accurate information, Harry leaves with Fleur and Alyssa as they carry on with duelling practice though Bagman's tips are kept secret by Harry. He reckons that he's helped these two enough as they're quite well-prepared for combat already.

"Hey, have any of you guys noticed Mr. Crouch around the school? Isn't he supposed to be at work?" asks Alyssa, as the trio are about to exit another empty classroom.

"I know a guy whose brother works as Crouch's assistant. They said he's taken off leave to finalize and oversee the maze," replies Harry, to which Fleur nods.

"Yes, I can see 'ow zat would make sense indeed. 'E does come across as someone who takes zeir work vairy vairy seriously."

True to his word, Professor Dumbledore organizes weekly checks with Moody, Harry, Snape, and Mr. Crouch as June arrives. But their second inspection, on the 2nd, reveals absolutely no evidence of anything amiss. By now, Harry's grown slightly more accustomed to the layout of the maze while wondering where the various obstacles would be placed.

Mr. Crouch's presence seems to actually add to the growing atmosphere of excitement around the third task. His expression also seems to have softened a slight bit since last month's confession, which Harry reckons has given him the slightest peace of mind.

"What are you staring at that Law Enforcement has-been for?" asks Pansy, while looking at Harry as they sit at their usual seats.

Daphne gives a slight laugh after downing some soup. "Maybe Harry's planning on following in his footsteps one day...uh... just don't wreck yourself like he did. To think that man nearly made Minister of Magic back in the day."

"Pansy, how's your mum?" Harry's question seems to raise Pansy's brows a fair bit as she appears surprised.

"What? Oh, mom's fine, but thanks for asking. Actually, why are you asking?"

"Just curious, that's all, since you are so very much close to her."

"Oh just leave him," laughs Tracey. "Weird as usual."

Since it's just a few weeks until the exams, Harry's calm demeanour while walking around the castle draws many looks from other students. Then, around mid-June, he comes across the Parkinson pair sitting in the shade near the stone circle.

"... yeah, that's right, crush 'em good before throwing in three, oh, Harry." Alyssa looks up while sitting beside Pansy on the ground. "Just going over some Potions with her."

"Uh-huh, not all of us are lucky enough to be exempt from exams." Pansy looks quite enviously at Harry before she continues studying her textbook.

"Why the mean look at just me?" Harry points at Alyssa. "She's a Champion too."

"She's exempt from my anger. Now how about you sit your Potions arse down and help me out a little... if you ain't got anything else to do."

"Say please or I leave."

"Fine. Please." Pansy pats the ground firmly beside her causing Harry to take his place. "There, I'm done begging so get cracking!"

"She's got you by the balls, Harry, that's my little cousin," says a laughing Alyssa, before the trio continue studying well over the afternoon on a cool Summer's day. With just under an hour to go until dinner, Pansy yawns before stretching out.

"Wake me up in twenty minutes' time," she says, while briefly looking from Harry to Alyssa before choosing the latter to lean against for a nap. "Better keep quiet, Potter boy."

He certainly does, as Harry now leans back against the sizable rock before turning to watch Alyssa packing away Pansy's stuff. For a brief moment, Harry imagines what it would be like if the Dursleys were more loving. This includes an imaginary scenario of playing two-player games together on Dudley's new PlayStation thing.

"...hello? I'm talking to you," whispers Alyssa, while shaking his shoulder. "My God, but you sure can daydream hard."

"What? Oh, sorry. Got caught up in some thoughts, yeah."

"Well, better not get caught up in the maze next week. Where the hell is all the time going these days?"

"Shhh, don't wake the bully baby," whispers Harry, while smiling at the snoozing Pansy. "This one can get quite a mean streak at times."

Pansy eventually sits up to stretch before joining Harry and Alyssa on their walk back up to the castle. Soon, dinner is served where the topic of exams echoes across the Great Hall in mostly anxious tones. Meanwhile, the Champions seem nervous over their own imminent task... where much pride and glory happens to be at stake. After dinner, Harry meets up for yet another inspection of the now fully-grown maze which only lacks certain obstacles. For the third week in a row nothing odd is detected, which has Moody sighing in disappointment.

"What's the point of all these anomalies happening this year, then? Never drop your guard," he says to Harry, as the group ascends the slopes back to the castle. With each passing day, another letter comes Harry's way from Sirius as the latter grows further excited and concerned. But Harry's certainly heard enough advice on 'staying alert' from nearly every adult figure in his life now, which has him sighing at the Slytherin table.

His annoyance is tempered by sitting in many an exam class while doing nothing but reading or kicking his feet up. Moody's half theory, half practical exams are particularly enjoyable for Harry to sit back and watch others stress themselves. Most notably is him kicking it back as the Gryffindor fourth-years eye him most enviously. Hermione soon looks his way but Harry refuses to make eye contact by deciding to read instead.

It truly puzzles him how quickly the second half of the school year's passed by. As he lays in his bed on the morning of the 24th, he thinks back to the slow, steady climb of 1994. From the World Cup to meeting the lovely Miss Delacour, from degraded friendships to the arrival of foreign students and, of course, the Goblet of Fire controversy. Everything seems to have built up for one memorable half year culminating in a spectacular Yule Ball. Harry reckons this could be the only one he ever attends, but in that case he's grateful for one amazing night indeed.

"Good morning if you're awake in there, Harry. Let's see our Champion bring it home for Slytherin!" cheers Daphne, before Harry leaps out of bed to hugs and kisses (on the cheek) from all five girls.

"You're going to do great, I just know you will," says Tracey.

"Never doubt our little Harry!" declares Pansy proudly. "I'm going to cheer for you, your girlfriend, and my cousin to do your absolute bests tonight."

"You've put in a lot of work, some legit, others...well...  _creative_ , but nonetheless you deserve to win. No offense to Pansy's cousin though," says Millicent, while smiling at Harry.

"The task's only later tonight," laughs Sally-Anne. "Oh well, lemme just say that all of us are one-hundred percent behind you. Forget Nott and the Krumsters out there."

Once in the common room, Harry's greeted by a wave of anticipation and excitement. The Slytherin majority are now practically overrunning Viktor Krum's supporters as Harry receives cheers, songs, and more than a few handshakes.

"Whatever happens, man, at least we took the lead and practically bagged two Cups now. Just gotta wait to get to the end of term with the most House points," says Flint. "Tonight, you go out there and kick that third task's arse!"

"I know he's got the skills to win it for us all," declares Flint's little sister confidently.

Yasmin comes to wish Harry well before many of the lower years swarm around him. His welcoming behaviour from last year never forgotten. Most of the Quidditch team, bar Malfoy and Montague, are certainly backing Harry to go all the way in this Tournament. Therefore, three quarters of Slytherin House join him from their common room all the way up to the noisy Great Hall.

" _Harry for the win_!" The cheers come loud and wild as he takes his seat at one end of the table. More than a few toasts are then given in the hopes of a Slytherin victory tonight, while Harry simply gets through his breakfast.

Minutes later, the  _Daily Prophet_  arrives at many a student's spot, and the numerous glances sent Harry's way has him rolling his eyes.

"What has she written about me this time?"

It takes just seeing ' _Parseltongue_ ', ' _danger_ ', and ' _dark wizard_ ', for him to sigh as his innate ability's now known across the Wizarding World. Not that he hasn't expected someone to snitch on him, especially considering the many witnesses to Lockhart's Duelling Club from years ago.

"Looks like Malfoy and Nott have given a fair bit of quotes in here," says an annoyed Tracey. "Oh and this just  _happens_  to be published today? Give me a break, they're trying to throw you off your game."

"Should I be worried, huh?" Harry smacks the desk before laughing out loud. "So what if I'm a Parselmouth? I'm bloody proud of it... Ssso they can sssuck on it if they're trying to ssslander me." The deliberate pulling of s's has Harry's girls laughing loudly, before Snape soon approaches their end of the table.

"In case you haven't noticed, the Champions are leaving for the chamber off the entrance hall. Might be wild animals looking for you."

While shoving scrambled eggs in his mouth, Harry immediately knows that Snape's referring to Sirius Black.

"The Champions' families are invited to watch the final task."

"They're just gonna stare at the hedges until someone wins, sir?"

"Don't look at me, I'm not the one who's organised this foolish event. Get up and go greet them." Snape turns around before striding back towards the high table.

"So..." Pansy stands up. "I wonder if mom's here to greet Alyssa? But if Uncle Saros is here then it's gonna be awkward..."

Harry recalls Pansy mentioning that her paternal uncle tends to blame his brother's death on Pansy's mother.

"Oh I know quite a bit about family issues. Well, let's go and ease the tension in that room." Harry stands up to lead the way out of the Great Hall.

"History of Magic exam's in a few minutes so I'll need to leave soon," says Pansy, as they open the chamber's door before stepping into the room.

"...father, leave your arguments for some other time!" Alyssa stands in the centre of the room between Holly Parkinson and who Harry reckons is Alyssa's father. A dark-haired man of average height and build, and with a rather stern expression especially towards Pansy's mother.

"Sweetheart, I know you'll do well, but if you don't happen to win then don't let it get you down." Holly Parkinson embraces her niece in a tight hug while the latter returns the gesture with a warm smile.

"I'll do my best, Aunt Holly, but so will all the others... including him." Alyssa points out Harry, just before Pansy runs up to hug her cousin. Meanwhile, Alyssa's parents formally meet and greet Harry while expressing delight in getting to know the famous Slytherin.

"My daughter is an accomplished duellist so I hope even the Boy-Who-Lived wouldn't take it too badly if she beats him?" asks Saros Parkinson. "My wife and I have taught her quite a bit you see, and she's won us in many a friendly duel."

Pansy's aunt, a classy blonde woman, nods in agreement while speaking with Harry. "I hope the Tournament doesn't come down to you Champions needing to fight each other, because that would be unoriginal. But fair play to whoever wins, although we are hoping to see the Cup in our trophy cabinet."

"Everyone's done remarkably well thus far so it's almost impossible to predict a clear winner right now," admits Harry. "Your daughter's a great witch though, no doubt about that."

The compliment elicits a pretty smile from Alyssa before Holly Parkinson steps forward.

"And good luck to you too, young Harry. My little Pansy just wouldn't stop sending letters about how exciting this Tournament happens to be. I would like to stay and watch but..." Holly glances towards Alyssa's parents who scowl at her. "It'll just sour the mood."

"You're not missing much though," replies Harry. "Just staring at a maze for who knows how long, ma'am."

Holly now raises her brows slightly while looking at her daughter. "Ahem, shouldn't you be heading for an exam, young lady?"

"Oh, sorry!" Pansy blushes in embarrassment before hurriedly exiting the room.

"Um, aunt?" Alyssa approaches to give Holly another tight hug. "I'm gonna take my parents for a tour around the castle. If you'd like to join—" Her sentence is interrupted by a rather deliberate clearing of the throat from her father.

"No need, since I've been here before. Probably still know the dungeons like the back of my hand. Well, I suppose I'll be leaving now," replies Holly, before kissing her niece on the forehead then holding Alyssa's head close to her chest. "You're a good girl, Alyssa."

"Much appreciated and, even if mum and dad don't agree, I still think you're a very good aunt." Alyssa now leads her parents out before Harry approaches Pansy's mother.

"I'm sorry about all that unfairness, ma'am."

Holly replies in a hushed tone. "Doesn't bother me much anymore. Frankly, I'm more concerned over the fact that the Mark's as strong as it's yet been since '81. Just... be on your guard because nobody knows what's happening with all this Triwizard weirdness."

"You don't know anything?" asks Harry, eliciting a shake of the head from Pansy's mother before she exits the chamber to leave the castle.

With the room less crowded, Harry now spots Viktor Krum conversing rapidly with his family in a far corner. Meanwhile, the Johnsons seem to be just as supportive of their daughter as one might think. Mr. Johnson, a tall and neatly-dressed gentleman, soon comes over to shake Harry's hand.

"Pleasure to meet you! Uh, please excuse Angelina's behaviour throughout this year. She gets like that when there's loads of pressure on her. Plus, I know you Slytherins never get along with them Gryffindors!"

Harry can't help but laugh with the jubilant Mr. Johnson. "Well she sure brought on some nasty surprises this year..."

"Peace offering, then?" asks Angelina, who's quite swiftly walked across the room to shake Harry's hand. "Perhaps I'll apologize a little bit for being such a tosser."

Folding his arms and looking smug, Harry grins. "So I guess Oliver really did get through to you, good then."

"We might all be friendly now with our families here, Harry, but I hope you don't forget that it's still a competition. Okay, so I must admit that, besides the cheating, you've really impressed us all. Dad couldn't stop shoving it in my face how you took down a damn Horntail while I ran from a Longhorn." Angelina rolls her eyes as her father guffaws with laughter.

"It's a good thing that you're a good runner, Angie, because you're no Harry Horntail-Slayer Potter!"

"Very funny, dad..."

"He's just teasing you, dear, as usual," says Mrs. Johnson. "It's been awhile since we were here, so how about a tour? That Beauxbatons girl's giving her parents a tour."

"Alright," says Angelina who turns to Harry. "I can't wait for this year to be done. Haven't been looking forward to the Summer holidays like this in a loooong time. You see this..." Angelina shows Harry a picture of her home's lush yard. "I'm gonna practice Quaffle skills like crazy once school's over. Watch me kick arse next year!" She then smiles before leading her parents out the room.

"My boy is talking to almost everyone in zis room!"

Before Harry can properly turn to his left, Fleur runs up to grab him in a tight hug. This is followed by at least two kisses on each cheek before Harry spots the Delacours approach. In addition, Sirius looks quite approving while some of the Weasleys have arrived to support the youngest Champion.

"He's like a celebrity, you see, oh but I'm sure you folks know all about that," says Sirius to Mr. and Mrs. Delacour, as well as the giggling Gabrielle. "I remember when he was  _this_  small and—"

"Sirius!" Harry calls through gritted teeth while shaking his head.

"—he once made a mess on his mum's lap but it was all sorted out quickly and—"

"Oh for God's sake, he's doing this on purpose," sighs Harry, while burying his head on Fleur's chest as she hugs him.

"Eet is okay, my maman, papan and leetle sister do like 'earing family stories. Zey are nice people 'oo do not judge uzzers too quickly," says Fleur, as Sirius continues to amuse her family.

"—he once chased and grabbed the family cat, then almost killed it when flying his toy broomstick—"

Eventually, Harry decides to move away from Sirius' reminiscing of the former's childhood at Godric's Hollow.

"Zere is a lady waving at you," whispers Fleur, to which Harry turns around and sees Mrs. Weasley and Bill standing near the chamber's fireplace. "Zat boy looks nice."

"Hey, I'm standing over here," replies Harry, while narrowing his eyes at Fleur.

"I am just 'aving a look, relax, leetle boy." She wraps her arm around Harry's shoulder before they approach the Weasleys.

"We thought we might surprise you given that, well..." Mrs. Weasley stops herself from what Harry sees as disappointment towards the Dursleys not showing up.

"Thanks for coming, really, I thought Sirius might be the only one here," admits Harry, before Bill speaks.

"I know it's late to say but that performance against the Horntail was downright insane! And your Quidditch matches too, we came for some of them. Most of us think you're a better flyer than Viktor Krum."

"Not  _zink_ , of course 'Arry is a better flyer, yes. And better looking zan Krum," says Fleur, soft enough for only the Weasleys to hear. While Bill finds her swift defence of Harry 'cute', Mrs. Weasley seems to eye Fleur with a hint of disapproval.

"Something wrong, mum?"

"Oh no, nothing, I was just thinking about something."

An awkward few seconds pass by before Harry offers the Weasleys a tour of the castle, even though they've been here before.

"Let me join ze leetle Champion's tour as well, I will discuss ze Beauxbatons carriage," says Fleur, while holding Harry by the hand.

"Please don't call Harry 'little' like that, it might be misinterpreted—" Mrs. Weasley looks to her left as Bill taps her on the shoulder.

"It's okay, mum, I'm sure Harry's girlfriend doesn't mean anything by it." He now turns to look at Fleur. "You sure caused quite an uproar in the first task when you clearly used Harry's Firebolt. The markings were a dead giveaway, you know."

"I should've cleaned it off before the task," says Harry. "But what's done is done, right?"

"I do not care what zey all zink of us. Eet was a sound strategy zat gave us many many points indeed." Fleur spots the odd expression sent her way by Mrs. Weasley, before Harry decides on rather heading outside now.

"So, Harry, Ron's said that Hermione's mentioned you teaching your friend over here some better English?" asks Bill, as the group of four walk down the slopes on a clear Summer's morning.

"O' yes 'e certainly 'as, and zat is only some of what we do in our free time—"

"Fleur!" Harry gestures for her to withhold the info, especially as the Weasleys seem part surprised and amused (Bill more than his mother though).

"And what exactly are the two of you doing?" asks Mrs. Weasley.

"Uh, let's focus on that big carriage over there," says Bill, to which Fleur nods and gives a thorough explanation of their travel arrangements and accommodation. Much of the morning is then spent listening to the Weasleys' experiences during their respective years at Hogwarts.

They eventually return to the castle when it's time for lunch, though Harry laughs awkwardly.

"So, um, my Slytherins aren't always the nicest bunch towards others..."

"It's alright, we understand," says Bill. "And it's not like you can come over to our side now. Everyone's very much behind Gryffindor's Champion to win."

"Well, 'Arry is perfectly fine where 'e is now so maybe 'e does not need to go over to Gryffindor's table." Fleur leads Harry by the arm as they return to the Slytherin table. "O'! Zey are sitting by us now."

Harry spots the Delacours sitting near Pansy and the others while a purple-haired Tonks also happens to be present. She smiles and waves at Harry as he approaches, causing quite a few students around the Great Hall to eye her with interest.

"Nymphadora, it's such a pleasure to see you here today!" Harry grins mischievously at Tonks' scowl from hearing her name. "Hey, girls, have you all already met Nymp—"

"You there, Tracey, hit him for me would you?" Tonks' request is happily obliged as Tracey turns to punch Harry against his thigh. "Aim a bit more centrally next time he uses my first name."

"Dora?" Harry looks quizzically at her.

"That'll do, yes." Tonks moves in her seat to let Harry sit beside her. "You see, ladies, Harry once saw me without clothes. You know what I caught him doing for many a night thereafter?"

Fortunately, the Delacours seem to be sitting just out of earshot as Harry's girls giggle at him.

"No need to tell us!" says a blushing Pansy. "We can only imagine what our boy would've been busy with."

"Where's Sirius?" asks Harry, before Tonks nods towards the doors. "He said he's sending a letter to that Lupin friend of his, 'cos that guy can't make it here today."

"Oh, he's probably sick or something." Harry reckons it's just that time of the lunar cycle again for Lupin, although very few are actually aware of this.

"Hey, Harry! Who's the chick sitting next to you?" asks Yasmin, from a few seats down the table.

"You'd better not say my first name or talk about my gift," whispers Tonks quite sternly, while poking Harry in his cheek with a fork.

"She's like my older sister, yeah!" Harry grins at the warm smile on Tonks' face before holding out his plate. "Come on, dish a few potatoes and meat, please?"

"He's trying out that adorable expression again," says Sally-Anne to Tonks. "Don't fall for it, Miss."

Tonks folds her arms and looks defiantly at Harry now. "Nope, hold out that plate all you want but I'm not dishing."

"Please, ma'am, may I have some more? Dish me, Dora, oh how can you be so cold-hearted? Pretty please with a cherry on top?" Harry stifles his laughter as he puts on an expression that has Tonks finally dropping her fork.

"Argh, fine, give that plate."

"Aaaand that's Harry: 1, Miss Tonks zilch," says Pansy. "Can't blame you though."

"You're unbelievable, seriously." Tonks sees Harry's saddened expression turn to a smirk as he munches down lunch.

"Tastes way better when dished by the ladies, yes."

Eventually, Sirius joins them at the table before surprising Harry with an unexpected envelope.

"I did some polite 'convincing' by paying them a visit to write this letter. Do enjoy."

Harry opens the envelope before pulling out a letter that immediately tells him who it's from, since it's pen and paper (which attracts comical looks from others).

" _We've heard you're in some sort of competition involving money, boy. So win then change some to normal currency and send us a share. We raised you._ "

"Your Muggles still aren't very charming, eh?" Tonks shakes her head while many of the girls nearby scoff at the Dursleys' letter.

"It's better than nothing, I guess." Harry tucks it away before spending the next couple of hours in the Great Hall. He then joins up with Sirius, Tonks, as well as the Delacours in walking around the castle. It seems pretty clear that Fleur's parents approve of her friendship with Harry, to which he's certainly grateful. At some point he spots Angelina and her family hanging out with Lee Jordan as well as the Weasleys present here today.

"Psst, wanna have a quick go before the task?" asks Tonks to Harry in a far portion of the castle's grounds. Meanwhile, Sirius once again chats with Fleur and her family as their group walks near the lake.

"Oh yes, with you I'd never say no—Ow!" Harry rubs his cheeks after they're firmly pinched.

"Duelling, you pervert!" Tonks shakes her head while sighing. "Friggin hell you're something else."

The pair soon draw their wands for a bit of duelling fun, although Harry's certainly beaten numerous times by the Auror. What does surprise Tonks is his unexpected display of basic nonverbal casting, which has her smiling in approval.

"I'm not gonna say the clichéd  _oooh you'll make a fine Auror one day with that attitude_  nonsense... but yeah I think you could. Well done on jumping years ahead with some of your studies. However, I'd stick to verbal in a real duel if I were you. Still got a ways to go before you're a proper silent caster."

"Why can't you not be so old?" asks Harry, eliciting an offended expression from Tonks as they slowly return to the others.

"Oh, excuse me? Don't you go saying this again because I'm certainly not an old lady, hmph."

"Just saying that it would've been cool having you at school. But since you're here let's wreak some havoc! Change around and we can get some of the arsehole Slytherin minority back for supporting Krum."

"Great idea, but I'm not going to advertise my abilities in front of Death Eater families. Haven't I explained that it's my little advantage out there? Not taking any chances playing around like that."

"You're no fun, hmph!" Harry looks away from Tonks before she puts an arm over his shoulder.

"Oh don't look so sad, the best way to get your haters back is to win this whole thing. That oughta shut those kids up."

Once the afternoon fades to evening, dinner is spent with more courses than usual in the Great Hall. By now the excitement has reached its peak, and it's certainly due in part to the completion of exams.

"May ze best Champion win! I do 'ope to see you near ze end so we can make it a great finale," says Fleur to Harry, before Alyssa walks over from her spot at the Ravenclaw table.

"See you folks in the maze... if we get that far in. Pansy, cheer for us all with your buddies, alright?"

"Uh-huh, you bet your arse we will! Bring those banners and cheers today, girls." Pansy looks quite sternly at her gang of girls as they nod affirmatively.

Eventually, the enchanted ceiling shows a dusky purple sky before Dumbledore stands up. He now requests the Champions to follow Ludo Bagman out to the stadium before the crowd is due to arrive in five minutes' time.

" _SLYTHERIN FOR THE CUP_!" yells the majority of Harry's supporters as he stands up. Even Sirius and Tonks are slightly startled by their boisterous show of support. Many a green badge lights up as these students stand in their seats. Then, countless hands reach out to shake and high-five Harry on his way down the aisle before he bows to them near the Great Hall's double doors.

" _GRYFFINDOR FOR THE CUP_!"

" _KRUM_!"

" _NOUS SERONS VICTORIEUX_!"

Elsewhere, each Champion receives a tremendous show of support as Krum, Angelina, Fleur, and Alyssa, stand up to leave the Hall as well. They walk down the slopes, in silence, until eventually reaching the Quidditch stadium where twenty-foot-tall hedges surround the maze. Its usually creepy entrance now seems even more so for Harry, given that tonight's the real deal.

The stands begin to fill with students and adults all equally excited for tonight's event. Looking up, Harry sees the sky being a clear shade of dark blue which only adds to the splendour of this event. Crowds of Hogwarts students sing and chant along with their school band, while Krum's supporters chant his name loud and proud. Then, Harry can't help but smile as he spots the Beauxbatons doing the dance Alyssa's (and Fleur's) so good at.

Igor Karkaroff stands beside Krum while urging his supporters to cheer louder. Madame Maxime stands proudly with one arm on Fleur's shoulder while the other's on a smiling Alyssa's. Both Champions briefly hug their parents while Harry hugs Sirius standing beside him, eliciting smiles from many of his female fans in the crowd. He then spots Angelina standing nearby with her father who lifts her hand in the air to receive a loud bit of applause. Both Johnsons now hugging each other as well.

It's soon announced that Professors Moody, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Hagrid will be patrolling the outskirts of the maze. Should any Champion wish to be rescued, they need only send red sparks in the air and await those on patrol.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Bagman's magically amplified voice booms across the stadium. "It is our great pleasure to welcome you to the third, and final, task of what has been a spectacular Triwizard Tournament indeed. Each of our Champions have worked hard and proud throughout the year to post respectable scores indeed. We've even seen two of them clash in an epic Quidditch match that'll be remembered for many years to come!"

The statement has Harry locking eyes with Krum as both Champions give the slightest nod of respect.

"Now, without further ado, here's a reminder of our points tally... and the order in which these Champions will enter the maze. In first place, on ninety-three points: Mr. Harry Potter, of Hogwarts School!"

Banners and cheers come roaring from the stands as Harry sees many known faces applauding him. From Pansy and the girls to the Weasleys, and even a clapping Hermione (which fills Harry with pangs of guilt) he's backed all the way. The Slytherin Quidditch team's Flint, Bletchley, Derrick, Bole, Warrington, Yasmin and Pucey all make their voices heard in the stands. Meanwhile, Malfoy and Montague seem to have fallen out with the rest, since they're proudly Krum-supporters.

"In second place, with eighty-six points, Miss Alyssa Parkinson, of Beauxbatons Academy!"

Alyssa and Fleur's supporters chant their phrases while giving an entertaining little dance. Harry notes how the Beauxbatons boys certainly seem to have better rhythm than him.

"Tied for third are Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons, and Miss Angelina Johnson, of Hogwarts. Each on eighty-three points!"

More applause and shows of support come their way, while Fleur and Angelina happily wave at their fans.

"In fourth place we have Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute, with eighty points! Don't count any of these Champions out though."

Tremendous cheers come Krum's way as his fans raise their banners and praises. Karkaroff joins in by waving his arms to encourage more support for the lone participant of Durmstrang.

Bagman's voice carries on through the wave of applause. "Brilliant show of support from all you folks, keep it up! Now, on my whistle, Harry. Three— Two— One..."

Sirius pats Harry on the shoulder right as Bagman blows and shouts:

"GO!"

The youngest Champion sprints forward into the maze he's entered so many times already. But tonight there's no Snape nor Mr. Crouch nor Moody to be at his side between these towering hedges. Harry can only hope that the previous rounds of inspection have covered everything around here.

" _Lumos_."

Pushing forward through darkness and near silence (with the crowd unable to be heard from within this maze), Harry soon reaches a familiar junction. The sound of Bagman's whistle again lets him know that Alyssa's now on the hunt, as Harry carries on for a good few metres.

A third blast of whistle alerts him to Fleur and Angelina's entry now, while Harry tries to recall the easiest path he remembers. After turning left to head down a darkened length of maze, he hears the fourth (and final) whistle as Viktor Krum joins the search. With each passing minute the maze grows almost darker, and Harry knows he's making some progress.

Nothing but a cool breeze rustling the hedges, and Harry's footsteps on the grass below, fills the expanse of silent darkness all around. Left... left... and right he runs before stopping just short of colliding into an expanse of hedge. Now Harry considers summoning his Patronus to peek over or through the hedges. But this might be seen by either the crowd, those on patrol, or a Champion nearby.

_"Please... have mercy ...have mercy."_

He stops for a moment as a familiar set of pleading echoes in his head. The air growing still, and icy cold, all around him.

"Boggart, come on out." Harry raises his wand as a black hooded figure emerges from the hedge barely a metre ahead. "You're no dementor and I know it.  _Riddikulus_!"

The boggart explodes in a wisp of smoke before Harry resumes running while trying to recall a familiar path. Forward, right... forward... dead end.. backtrack... left... he runs with nothing in sight except a length of darkness. Minutes of running later, Harry comes to a three-way stop where he collides straight into someone.

"Ouch, what the hell? You trying to take me out of the task?" asks Angelina, who's come from Harry's right.

"No, sorry, guess we just ran into each other, literally."

She looks at him while getting up and patting grass off her robes. "Nothing behind me, but maybe there's something this way?"

Both Champions now head off in opposite directions as Harry turns right, where Angelina had emerged from moments ago. But just as she'd said, Harry finds nothing ahead but a narrow length of darkness beneath navy blue skies.

There remains absolutely nothing of note as Harry decides upon heading left... then right... while trying to retrace his steps from last week. Then, finally, he stumbles across one of Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts. It's massive indeed, like a giant scorpion... and yet it's completely knocked out.

"The hell?" Harry cautiously approaches the creature, tiptoeing his way past, only to find that it's indeed utterly unconscious. Wondering if it's an ominous sign of someone ahead in this task, he drops stealth for speed as he races down the narrow path to his left.

Somewhere far in the distance, a whistle blows which causes Harry's heart to sink. Could someone have already snatched the Cup? After waiting for a few minutes, Harry carries on since the task remains uninterrupted.

Something seems to be following in sync with Harry's footsteps, and therefore he stops. But then it stops as well from the path running parallel to Harry's own (behind the hedge to his right). Trying his luck, he walks forward just a few steps before hearing almost identical sounds coming from his right.

" _Expecto Patronum!_ "

He sends the silver serpent through the hedge before it soon comes slithering back to him.

"What have you seen?" asks Harry, while focusing hard on his Patronus to speak Parseltongue.

"Crazy arssse Viktor Krum is ssstanding right here and just ssstaring at the hedge towardsss you. What a wanker!"

The image of Krum simply looking at the hedge while mirroring Harry's movements now sends shivers down the latter's spine.

"What?" Harry orders the serpent to slither above the hedge and relay information about Krum as he moves forward. Again, nearly identical footsteps can be heard.

"He isss walking forward, yesss. Hey, dumb pumpkinhead, quit copying my cassster!" hisses the Patronus, before Harry laughs and looks up.

"Nobody else can understand you, man, just me." He then dispels the snake before speaking towards the hedge. "Viktor Krum, can you hear me? What the hell are you copying me for?"

"Volk forward and turn right," replies Krum.

While on high alert with his wand drawn, Harry does as told and eventually stands ahead of Krum. The latter now simply looking down the path at him. Then, Krum walks a few steps back before turning to head down a path on his right with Harry following.

"Who took out that Skrewt?" asks Harry.

"I did, and it vos not so strong if you know vhere to hit it." Krum now picks up speed by jogging, causing Harry to race in pursuit.

"Trying to get the best of me? It won't work this time, Krum. No more games like the Quidditch match!"

Both Champions sprint forward... right... left... then forward again. But just then, as they near a four way junction, Krum spins around on the spot.

" _Crucio_!"

"Are you fu—" Harry leaps aside as the Cruciatus Curse flies past him. "I knew this was a trap, getting me to follow you, huh? First you steal Hermione and now you're trying to steal my Cup too? COME ON, BITCH!  _Depulso_!"

"You will not pass this point, Harry Potter," says Krum quite stiffly, even more so than usual. "I cannot let you reach the Triwizard Cup.  _Expelliarmus_!"

" _Protego_!  _Everte Statum_!" Harry catches Krum with the spell, knocking him backwards through the air.

Another spell comes soaring towards Krum (who blocks) from Harry's left as Angelina races towards them.

"Harry! I saw your Delacour friend get pulled out of the maze earlier."

"What?"

"She's out after red sparks went into the air!" Angelina grabs Harry aside as they evade Krum's spells. "There's something wrong with Viktor too."

" _Crucio_!" Krum catches Angelina in the curse, bringing her to the ground in pain.

"NO!" Harry fires off a few more spells which merely blast Krum back, since he evades the stunner and disarming charm.

"Y-You're going to Azkaban for that," says a shocked Angelina, while staring at Krum. "Harry, I know Viktor quite well! He wouldn't do something like this... he...he simply has to be under the  _Imperius Curse_!"

Harry raises his wand to defend both him and Angelina now as Krum advances towards them.

"You cannot reach the Triwizard Cup..."

"WHY? So you can steal it?" yells Harry.

"Nobody must win this Tournament." Krum now begins another round of attacks while Harry desperately fights back. "Nobody must win."

" _Stupefy_!" Harry's attack is swiftly blocked by Krum. "What do you mean 'nobody'? Why not?"

"Nobody must win this Tournament. Not me, not you, not Fleur, not her, not Alyssa. Nobody must win this Tournament..."

"Okay." Harry glances at Angelina. "He is definitely out of his mind in here."

 


	38. Tournament's End

Unsure of how far away from the Cup they are, Harry and Angelina find themselves faced with a crazed Krum. The darkened expanse of maze now lights up with flashes of spells flying around.

"Viktor, snap out of it, you're being controlled!" shouts Angelina, before narrowly evading Krum's disarming charm.

This presents an opportunity for Harry to fire off a stunner, but Krum seems determined to beat them both.

"You must not continue, you must not reach the Cup," he says once again.

" _Stupefy_!" Angelina tries getting a shot on Krum but he's simply too quick. "Who's doing this to you? Why do they want us all to fail?"

"Cannot reach the Cup, must not reach the Cup..."

"He's like a bloody zombie or something." Harry grabs Angelina before they decide upon running down the path behind them.

"I'm not letting him have his way!" says Angelina. "He used an Unforgivable on me, a friggin Unforgivable."

"That's exactly why we should run! What if he manages to get off a Killing Curse, huh? There's no telling what's going through his mind now."

Both Champions follow the maze until turning right at a T-junction before trying the next left. A narrow length of path lies straight ahead as they run...turn left... then pass by another four way intersection...

" _Depulso_!"

Krum seems to have emerged from the path on Harry and Angelina's left. His spell catching the latter off-guard as Angelina is blasted back through the air before landing on her side.

" _Expelliarmus_!"

" _Crucio_!"

Unwilling to be tortured, Harry drops to the ground to avoid getting hit by the Curse, while his disarming charm just about misses Krum.

"Stop now, I must stop all of you." Krum walks into the intersection before another spell comes from his right (and therefore Harry's left). It hits him right on the shoulder sending Krum flying against the hedge nearby.

"The hell is going on around here? I just passed a damn cryptic as hell sphinx and now it's  _this_?" Alyssa steps into the intersection to spot Harry and a hurt Angelina. "Who's attacking who?"

"Get down!" Harry sees Krum standing up to attack Alyssa. "I think he's  _Imperio'ed_ , because he's trying to stop all of us, including himself, from winning. Watch out for his Unforgivables!"

" _Crucio_!"

Alyssa side-steps the Curse before targeting Krum. Meanwhile, Angelina gets to her feet and tries to run down the path to Harry's right.

"Hey, come and help us take him down!"

"I'm not putting up with this craziness any longer, Harry," says Angelina. "Take each other out while I try and find the Triwizard Cup."

"I'll handle Krum while you hold Johnson off," says Alyssa to Harry, before the latter responds:

"And then what? You and I going at it?"

"Don't tell me you're scared of a duel, dragon boy," replies Alyssa. "Just don't let that Gryffindor get a cheap victory on you."

Harry takes off in pursuit of Angelina as they race down a length of maze.

"If I'd known you'd stab me in the back like this I wouldn't have helped you against Krum!"

"This is Gryffindor's time to shine, Harry, no hard feelings? Weren't your parents in my House?" Angelina stops and swiftly fires off a knockback jinx which Harry blocks.

"Now it's personal." He takes aim before firing a verbal banishing charm followed by a nonverbal  _Everte Statum._  The latter of which has Angelina briefly startled.

"How'd you learn that in fourth-y—ARGH!"

Harry watches in utter surprise as she's jumped by an acromantula at a four way intersection ahead. The giant spider knocks her down then injures Angelina's arm as she tries to fling defensive spells at it. Seconds later sees her wand flung from her grasp, leaving her essentially defenceless.

"Don't just stand there!" She finds herself pinned down while the beast tries to get its pincers to her neck. "Do something, anything! It's going to kill me!"

"Help yourself." Harry crosses the four way intersection where Angelina struggles to keep the acromantula from getting at her. "You've really been a bitch all year long. How can someone with such cool parents be such a goddamn jerk?"

While speaking, Harry spots the giant spider grabbing Angelina with its front legs before slamming her to the ground. A sickening crack lets him know that her run's over today, quite literally so, as her left leg's broken.

"Oh sh—" Pangs of guilt begin to stab at Harry once more, this time while seeing a struggling sixth-year right beneath an acromantula. "I was just... didn't mean for this to happen..." But he barely has time to apologize before the helpless Gryffindor's inches from two pincers at her throat.

"I don't want to die like an idiot in a stupid tournament," says Angelina, through whimpers of pain.

" _Confringo_!"

Harry directs the blast right at the spider's face, smashing it dead against a nearby hedge. He then walks towards Angelina, who's sitting in the intersection and clutching her injured leg.

"How bad is it? Completely broken or can you try and get up?" After he returns her wand, she speaks:

"Go to hell and take your stupid Triwizard robes with you. I can't cast a good healing spell... so my task's over. Hope you're happy with yourself." Angelina gives him a nasty look before firing up red sparks above her location.

"I'll try and heal—"

"I said piss off! I'm done, finished, screwed over by a selfish prat who only thinks of himself! Get out of my sight before I hex you."

Looking down while sighing, Harry slowly turns to walk away from Angelina. Unsure of where he's truly headed, Harry keeps on walking... passing another intersection... turning left at the next one... then right. The hedge to his left suddenly bursts open as Krum is seemingly blasted through it. The Bulgarian, now disarmed while lying in Harry's path, looks up to speak with him.

"Do not... do not go the Cup..."

"Why? Tell me what's going on around here! Who put this Curse on you? Is the Cup trapped or something? Rigged to explode maybe?" Harry kneels down while trying to keep Krum awake.

"I do not know... But I must stop all of you from touching it. Nobody must vin this bad Tourname—"

Krum's blasted metres ahead by a stunner sent through the gap in the hedge. Then, at the intersection ahead of Harry, Alyssa casually walks to stand in its centre.

"Well, hasn't this been a fun little Tournament, eh?" She claps her hands quite condescendingly at Harry, who soon walks to approach her. "I must admit that you're better than anyone expected. Taking down a dragon, helping us cheat our way through, getting Fleur through the tasks... too bad she's left this one so soon. A shame, really, because I was hoping to have a duel with her."

Drawing his wand and aiming at Alyssa, Harry continues to walk forward. To his utmost surprise, a distant gleam lets him know the Triwizard Cup's down the path behind her.

"Stand aside, Alyssa, that Cup belongs to me."

"Oh no you don't!" She raises her wand as well. "You've convinced me not to give up... remember back when I was planning on ditching this thing? Now I'm here and no way in hell going to give up, not with the Cup so close."

"You shouldn't even be in this Tournament, so back off!"

"Look who's talking." Alyssa's cold blue eyes glare at Harry. "Neither should you. But I guess there's only one way to settle this... though do take a look at Viktor Krum to see why it's foolish to duel against me."

"I might surprise you...  _Expelliarmus_!"

Harry spots Alyssa flinging a nonverbal hex his way.

" _Protego_!"

It deflects back, although she does evade before firing a few more jinxes. " _Impedimenta_!" " _Locomotor Mortis!_ "

All Harry can do is block and deflect before trying to get off more shots of his own. But Alyssa swiftly proves to be one tough opponent with her movements and spells. Eventually, Harry gets hit by a knockback jinx sending him backwards against a hedge.

" _Serpensortia_!"

The snake summons spell surprises Alyssa before Harry summons additional reinforcements to command. Through hissing tones he stands up to direct them forward as they slither along the ground.

" _Vipera Evanesco_!" Alyssa vanishes one of four snakes before getting hit by Harry's knockback jinx. However, she then leaps to her feet before vanishing a second and blasting a third snake away. "You can't hide behind your snake forever, Harry, once it's gone then you'll be wide open."

" _Expelliarmus_!  _Petrificus Totalus_!" Harry's spells are blocked and evaded before Alyssa blasts the final snake. But her divided attention costs her as she's finally caught in a disarming charm before Harry catches her wand.

"I let you win," she says, as Harry shoves her aside while running towards the Triwizard Cup sitting not too far ahead. "Harry Potter."

He tries to ignore Alyssa, even though she calls him again while he now walks ahead.

"If you grab that Cup, then I will have a nice little chat with Pansy. Blood is thicker than water, so would you want your best friend to hate you forever?" Alyssa picks herself up before walking up to the scowling Harry.

"Blackmailing me? Using your cousin to play mind games here?"

"I can't afford to lose this Tournament, not at this stage, and neither can you. So unless you'd like to sever your beloved friendship with my cousin, I suggest we grab that Cup together. Think about how happy that'd make little P? It's hard enough for her to choose either of us to support. Plus, it'll be a joint victory for our schools."

"The Cup is mine." Harry continues walking forward towards the gleam of glory. He can already picture himself holding it up in triumph before the entire school. But what of Pansy? How would she react to her most beloved cousin coming so close only to lose out at the end? Now he hesitates, unwilling to hurt the girl who's been at his side since the beginning of first year.

Alyssa continues to approach Harry while speaking. "Durmstrang doesn't deserve it after all the trouble they've given you on that Quidditch pitch, and Krum got himself hit by an Unforgivable. Where'd that even come from? Nobody knows. Wouldn't a joint Hogwarts-Beauxbatons victory also bring a smile to Fleur? She's haughty and condescending... but also a real sweetheart beneath all that, as I'm sure you'd know."

"It's my Cup," insists Harry sternly.

"Fleur's been a good friend, especially with all the help I've gotten from her over the years. I can't understand how she'd lose out here so early today. As much as I want that Cup I know that Fleur's now wishing for you to win it instead. So I've got Pansy to consider and you've got Fleur. And don't forget about your Hagrid pal and his friendship with Madame Maxime. I know he's angry at her for hiding her giant heritage, but think of our joint victory as at least something good for them to talk about." Alyssa sighs while now standing right beside Harry. "I really did let you win just now, so I can talk some sense into you. There's no shame in coming joint first place.  _International Magical Cooperation_ , right?"

"To make friends." Harry looks from the Cup to Alyssa before extending his hand. "Fine. For Pansy, Fleur, and all the rest, let's get our eternal glory and prize money."

"Oh, you can keep the prize money because I don't need it," says Alyssa, while walking hand-in-hand with Harry. "Maybe do some good with it or something, perhaps spoil Pansy?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Buy her clothes and stuff... though you'll have to help pick 'em out 'cos I suck at that."

They soon reach the Triwizard Cup where each holds a hand out over one of its glimmering handles. After counting to three, they grasp tightly in triumph, until being jerked forward and off the ground... now spinning around in a mess of howling wind and colour.

***

Landing quite firmly upon the ground, Harry looks wildly around as the Triwizard Cup rolls aside to lay nearby. Alyssa seems confused as well, for they're no longer at Hogwarts but rather in one dark and overgrown graveyard. The outline of a fine old house sits atop a hill far to the left. Everything feels silent and eerily so indeed as the two Champions seem equally confused.

"Is this part of the task?" asks Alyssa. "Portkey away from Hogwarts for some reason?"

"Portkey..." Harry looks to his right at the Cup lying nearby. "Krum was trying to warn us not to touch this thing... Alyssa I think this is a trap. Actually, I—ARGH!"

He falls to the ground while clutching his agonizing scar which simply sears with excruciating pain.

"Harry, what the hell? Headache?"

"Scar—is—paining! Someone—is—coming!"

A hooded figure approaches from between the many graves, somewhat tall and clutching at a covered bundle in his hand. He seems to walk quite slowly while eventually standing beside a towering marble headstone, six feet from the Champions.

"What's happening here? Who are you?" Alyssa's words break the eerie silence once more as she holds her wand up. Then, a high, cold voice speaks:

" _Kill the spare_."

"Trap... move... must be." Harry can hardly form a proper sentence from the agony of his scar as he lays upon the ground.

" _Avada K—_ "

Harry can merely watch, powerless to really do anything now, as the hooded figure takes aim. But much like Alyssa had done back in the maze, she swiftly fires off a spell. One flash of orange narrowly misses its target as the hooded figure stumbles to the side, his face revealed. The same face Harry recalls seeing in a dream over the Summer.

Nonverbally, Alyssa desperately fires another spell which is now blocked by a shield charm before the man speaks.

"Master, it is difficult to fight with you in my arms. The girl is proving to be troublesome."

The cold voice replies, "Put me down, Bartemius, and let Nagini assist you."

Trying to get up, Harry sees who he reckons to be Crouch Jr. now joined by a gigantic snake that hisses while slithering towards Alyssa. The latter firing off all manner of spells at the snake while also leaping aside to duel Crouch Jr. It seems to somewhat work as a blasting curse has the snake slithering back, although Crouch Jr. moves forward.

"Troublesome girl, you are standing in the way of my Master's return!"

"Voldemort..." mutters Harry, loud enough for a shocked Alyssa to hear. "That bundle of whatever has got to be the Dark Lord. They're after me!"

"You can't be serious? He's actually still alive?" She keeps the snake at bay with more little explosions upon the ground before taking aim at a broken headstone nearby.

Another jet of green comes streaking her way before Alyssa levitates and hurls the thick slab of headstone to take the blow. Bits of flaming green concrete simmer before both combatants.

Finally, Harry manages to get to his feet while battling through his ever-agonizing scar. "Alyssa, this way!"

She races towards him while fighting as fast as Harry's yet seen her. Flashes of spells fly between her and Crouch Jr. before Harry puts himself between the two. Now the cold, high voice seemingly screams in anger.

"Stop! Do not kill Harry Potter!"

Following this, Crouch Jr. appears livid as he glares at Harry.

"Get out of the way, Harry Potter. Your usefulness will come later."

"Go ahead then." Harry raises his wand. "Think I'm scared to die? Throw that Killing Curse my way if you'd like. But it's two on two now." He grabs Alyssa as Crouch Jr. fires a banishing charm that narrowly misses. Both Champions now desperately flinging spells at Crouch Jr. and the snake.

" _Accio Triwizard Cup_!" shouts Alyssa, before the cold, high voice screams for Crouch Jr. to intervene.

Harry holds the girl's hand as the Cup comes flying towards them... only to be blasted to the ground nearby. Then, Crouch Jr. is given new orders to which he reveals the bundled thing.

Alyssa screams at the sight of one truly horrendous, almost demonic infant which has her briefly standing still from shock.

" _Accio Tri—_ " Harry's words are cut off by Crouch Jr. blasting him backwards before the infant speaks to Alyssa.

"You have put up a good fight, even against my Bartemius. Perhaps you should join our noble cause?"

"Get lost, Lord Voldemort, and rot there for all eternity."

"Bartemius!"

Harry can but only watch as Alyssa fires a spell that blasts the infant backwards, as Crouch Jr. raises the wand in his grasp.

"NO!  _Avada Kedavra_!"

A flash of green is all Harry sees before Alyssa spins through the air, then she lands face up right beside him. Her lifeless blue eyes staring up to the darkened skies, her final expression a slight smile. Shocked senseless from what's just transpired, Harry finds himself blasted towards the marble headstone before being tightly bound by conjured ropes. While staring in horror at Alyssa, he hears Crouch Jr. nearby.

"Master! Master, are you hurt?"

"She has paid with her life, now finish it before this feeble form gives in from that attack!"

Moving at an increased pace, Crouch Jr. gets on with what Harry perceives as a ritual of sorts. One that involves a sizable cauldron, bone dust from the grave marked 'Tom Riddle' where Harry's bound, a sacrifice of Crouch Jr.'s hand, and, finally, some of Harry's own blood.

The cauldron simmers and sparks brightly before sending a surge of steam all around. Hate and terror fills Harry upon seeing a tall, skeletally thin man emerge from the steam. He's immediately robed by the one-handed Crouch Jr. before the former steps out the cauldron to stare at Harry. Now Lord Voldemort reaches into his robes to withdraw the wand used by Crouch Jr. moments ago, he then presses it to the Dark Mark proudly shown by Crouch Jr.

"You have done well, Bartemius, now let us see who is brave enough to return... and foolish enough to stay away," says Voldemort, before pacing up and down while sweeping his gaze across the graveyard.

"You stand upon the remains of my late, filthy Muggle father whose name I share, Harry Potter. " Voldemort proceeds to give a brief history of his hated family, including the Riddle house atop the hill in the distance, before glancing upon the graves. "And now, my  _true_  family returns..."

One by one, the swishing of cloaks alerts Harry to the arrival of Voldemort's masked Death Eaters. They approach their master while appearing in shock, each one soon bowing down to kiss his robes. Then, Harry sees one Death Eater gasp before walking, horrified, towards the body of Alyssa. The sobbing woman soon kneeling down to hold the deceased Champion.

"My apologies, Parkinson," says Voldemort in a manner that Harry can hardly empathize with. "But I'm afraid that your niece had simply got in the way of my return, a necessary sacrifice. Now, take your place amongst the group."

Knowing how Mrs. Parkinson must be feeling, Harry can only hope that she does as ordered.

"Y-Yes... my lord..."

"Good." Voldemort stands to address the crowd gathered around him, even though there are notable gaps in the circle. "Welcome, Death Eaters..." He proceeds to mention how long it's been since they last met, then how none but Crouch Jr. came to find and serve him.

"Bartemius here has repaid his debt." Voldemort conjures up a silvery hand for the grateful Crouch Jr. before turning to look upon the masked Mrs. Parkinson. "There can be no forgiveness for thirteen years of neglect. I do not forgive. I do not forget. But, considering the unfortunate loss of Pureblood life here tonight, Parkinson is... mostly forgiven."

He then berates Mr. Malfoy for neglecting to seek him out, before mentioning the Quidditch World Cup.

"... Muggle torture was fun, I daresay, but might your energies have been better directed at finding your Master? Yet you ran from the Dark Mark which had been cast in the air. I expect more faithful service in the future, Lucius. In fact, who is the one that had conjured up the Mark?"

"Me... my lord," replies Mrs. Parkinson, before mentioning how she'd also taken on a few Aurors by herself.

"And yet you made no effort to come find me? You are treading on thin ice, Holly, but consider yourself lucky that I can be merciful, on occasion."

Voldemort now continues to walk around the group while mentioning the Lestranges in Azkaban, and that he will ally himself with dementors and giants to build an army. Then, Voldemort addresses each of the remaining Death Eaters gathered around. So many familiar surnames being mentioned in Harry's presence including Crabbe, Goyle, and _Nott_. Another gap in the circle is now mentioned as Harry realizes that Voldemort's talking about Snape, and, finally, the Durmstrang Headmaster.

"Dear old cowardly Karkaroff..."

Mr. Malfoy now speaks in the ensuing silence to ask how exactly Voldemort has returned.

"Quite a story, Lucius, and it begins—and ends— with my 'guest of honour'." Voldemort walks lazily to stand beside Harry, so that everyone gathered around may watch them. "What is it that he calls himself these days? That despicable, unworthy, insulting title which you've bestowed upon yourself? Ah..." He turns to look at his Death Eaters while nodding towards Harry. "The  _King of Slytherin._ "

They now laugh, as expected of them. Jeers, whistles, and cackles fill the circle... before Harry spits in Voldemort's face. Silence immediately ensues as a gleam of fury shows in his red eyes. However, Voldemort swiftly vanishes the spit before carrying on.

"The Boy-Who-Lived..." He recalls the events of when he attacked the Potters at Godric's Hollow. This includes the 'old magic' bestowed upon Harry by his mother, and how Voldemort could not touch him. "No matter, I can touch him now."

More agonizing pain burns through Harry's scar as Voldemort presses his cheek. Then, the latter continues to address his Death Eaters after stepping back by carrying on with his speech detailing the many years following his downfall. This includes last year, when Crouch Jr. had finally thrown off the Imperius Curse, pretended to still be under control, and then swiftly pounce the moment his House Elf seemed distracted.

"...Bartemius, being the talented and knowledgeable boy that he is, had managed to track me down where my presence was rumoured to be..."

Voldemort continues to explain Crouch Jr. having overheard some of Crouch Sr.'s discussion around the Triwizard Tournament. In addition, he had also ransacked the Crouch house on his way out and stolen a schedule from his father.

"...using his clever mind, Bartemius tracked down and brought one Bertha Jorkins to me. See how fate favours Lord Voldemort? Bartemius also had to be quick you see, for I could not be left alone for long..."

The retelling continues with Voldemort describing his use of Nagini in keeping him alive while planning tonight's ritual. He also mentions having wanted Harry's blood to nullify the 'old magic' protecting the latter. But there simply had been no opportunity to get him.

"...an unfortunate delay, I must admit. Had you been more alert and loyal, Holly, then the World Cup might've been my return. See how inconvenienced Lord Voldemort was, due to the neglect of his followers?"

Mrs. Parkinson looks down, and Harry reckons she's fearing retribution, though none comes her way.

"I could not risk sending Barty to the crowded World Cup, too exposed. But you, Holly, could have brought me Harry Potter if you were more faithful and alert. Then you would still have your niece..."

Voldemort pauses to let the grief and guilt sink into Mrs. Parkinson before he continues.

"But great minds think alike, and so Bartemius and I discussed what we've learned from the Ministry witch. How very convenient that Durmstrang is led by an old fool of a coward. It would only take a hurried trip north for Barty to... 'convince' dear old Karkaroff of his responsibilities. After all, people do great things when their families are in grave danger. I'm sure we remember the good old days when our enemies returned home not to smiles and laughter, but to death and the Dark Mark hanging above their homes."

Voldemort continues to pace up and down while speaking.

"Barty tells me that Karkaroff was resistant at first, reluctant to shed such young blood. How weak that coward has grown. And so I ordered Barty to make an example by killing a cousin of Igor's, secretly of course. That scared him enough to enter Harry Potter's name into the Goblet of Fire, although even Lord Voldemort wonders why he entered Holly's niece. Perhaps we should blame him for her death, yes?"

After pausing for a bit, Voldemort turns to look at Harry.

"Lord Voldemort's plans had not gone without their share of challenges, for there was always the risk of Karkaroff ruining everything. But I suppose he knew the powers of his Master, that I could still—even in my weakened state—cause the deaths of those he holds dear. But Harry Potter over here seemed to prepare himself quite excessively for this Tournament. Stupid boy, no amount of practice with that old Auror can shield you from the might of Lord Voldemort. Yes, I know about your extra lessons with Professor Moody for the first task... Karkaroff had overheard. So, Death Eaters, here is the boy who many mistakenly believe to be my downfall.  _My_  downfall?" Voldemort gives a mirthless laugh. " _Crucio_!"

Nothing but the worst kind of agony he could ever experience thus far now fills Harry, until the Curse is finally stopped. Jeers of laughter now echo across the group of Death Eaters as Harry remains bound to the grave of Voldemort's father.

"...there is no Dumbledore, no Professor Moody, no Lily Potter, no-one here to save you now. I will allow you to fight, Harry Potter, and so all of my Death Eaters can see how lies have fed your legend. Just a bit longer, Nagini, and you can have your meal. Bartemius, let Harry have his wand."

After being untied and having his wand returned to him, Harry spots the Death Eaters forming a tighter circle to prevent his escape.

"You've been taught how to duel, Harry Potter? Oh, but I'm certain we all read about the boy who took down a dragon. Child's play, Harry, child's play. First, we bow." Voldemort does so in the slightest of manners. "Come, Professor Dumbledore and Professor Moody would want you to show respect to your superiors. Bow to your death now."

Laughter once again echoes across the observing Death Eaters.

"This is no Quidditch game, Harry, no time for foolish defiance. I said  _bow_." Voldemort raises his wand and forces the gesture from Harry, much to the amusement of the Death Eaters around. "Good, and now... we duel."

Before Harry can properly raise his wand, another Cruciatus Curse has him sprawled out in horrendous pain on the ground. More laughter mocks him from all around before Voldemort releases the spell and continues taunting him.

"A little break, or would you like that again? Lord Voldemort is asking you a question, Harry Potter. Give me an answer,  _Imperio_!"

Harry tries with all his might to resist being toyed with by the Dark Lord, and so he yells out in defiance. A scream of 'No!' that ceases the laughter of the surrounding Death Eaters.

"But you must learn obedience before you die, perhaps another dose of pain ought to do?"

The next Cruciatus Curse is dodged as Harry races to take cover behind the now shattered marble headstone.

"Why is the...  _King of Slytherin_  hiding himself from his Lord? Is he afraid? Afraid of death? Understandable, even though I myself have never experienced it...and never plan to. Come on out, little Slytherin, and face your death. What better way for our 'legendary' Housemate to meet his end than to the  _green_  Killing Curse?"

Nothing but raw hatred fills Harry from within. Hatred for all the trouble Tom Marvolo Riddle has caused, and hatred for seeing a girl's life so selfishly taken today. Harry now stands up before walking around the headstone to face Lord Voldemort again.

"Have it your way, you son of a bitch."

But Voldemort merely looks at his Death Eaters before gesturing to the shattered marble headstone.

"A very fitting description, don't we all think?"

They laugh before keeping silent as Voldemort warns them to never throw such terms at him.

"Let those words be the last, miniscule, pitiful defiance shown by Harry Potter..."

Both duellists now raise their wands at each other, their expressions of utmost contempt.

" _AVADA KEDAVRA_!"

Jets of green light burst forth from both Slytherins' wands, and as the Death Eaters gasp, Voldemort yells:

"Don't you dare use that spell on me, stupid boy, DON'T YOU DARE!"

"Same bloody thing I'd say to you, Tom Riddle!"

Then, Harry grips his wand as it vibrates, before the beam of green connecting both wands turns to gold. Even Voldemort appears to be gripping his quite tightly now while maintaining the Killing Curse. Both Slytherins now find themselves lifted off the ground and placed on a patch away from the graves. Meanwhile, the confused Death Eaters hurry over while begging for instructions. Their presence now pushed back as the golden beam between Harry and Voldemort splinters to form a cage all around them.

"Do nothing unless I command you!" shouts Voldemort to the Death Eaters, while Harry sees him now equally astonished at what's happening here.

Something fills Harry's ears as phoenix song echoes from the caged web of light all around him. Something urging him to not break the connection of these wands.

Beads of light now force their way between Harry and Voldemort's wands as the former tries his utmost best to push them away. Back to Voldemort they go before another searing hot bead comes Harry's way. He concentrates as hard as ever before pushing it all the way to finally make contact with Voldemort's wand.

Green and red eyes alike widen in shock as echoes...ghosts of sorts emerge from Voldemort's wand. First, the hand severed from Crouch Jr. then, to Harry's utter astonishment, Alyssa appears right beside him.

"Hold on, Harry, and then you tell them all that I got a shot on that bastard. I got a shot on Lord Voldemort himself."

Tears fill his eyes as Harry can but merely nod at the girl he's failed to save tonight. Next, an old man expresses surprise at seeing a real wizard but then urges Harry to fight him. This is followed by a woman, possibly Bertha Jorkins that Harry's seen in the newspaper, urging him to hang on.

And, finally, Harry sees the ghostly echo of his mother emerge. For the first time tonight, he feels almost ashamed to be casting the Killing Curse.

"M-Mummy? I'm sorry... sorry for b-being in Slytherin."

She looks at him and smiles. "It's okay you're not the only good one I know. Now hang on for your father, sweetheart, he wants to see you."

Struggling to keep the connection going, Harry sees Voldemort now confused and almost fearful as his victims prowl around him. They remain behind the web of light which glows so brightly that no Death Eater can see what is happening inside. Then, seconds later, the ghostly echo of James Potter arrives and makes his way towards his tearful son.

"Daddy?"

"Look at you, son, all growing up under  _Snivellus_ ' watchful eye. You did good with Sirius and Moony, Harry, we're very proud of you. But now's not the time for talk... When this connection is broken we'll linger for only a few moments, enough to get you out safely, understand?"

Harry nods. The ferocity of the duel brings enough heat to push back the tears rolling down his cheeks.

"You, boy." Another voice now echoes from the ghost of a man who's arrived to stand beside James. A middle-aged gentleman with a neat goatee and well-kept dark hair.

Although his attention may be on the vibrations of his wand, and the presence of his parents, Harry tries to pay attention to the unknown wizard.

"Listen here, I don't want you telling my wife that Voldemort got me. I didn't want us to endanger ourselves anymore so I tried to negotiate on our behalf. Anyway, listen to your parents and make sure you get to that Cup with Alyssa's body."

Although notably confused, Harry nods in understanding.

"You'd better take good care of my little Pansy."

Now it strikes him who this is. But there's no time to lament as Alyssa comes to stand beside her uncle.

"Harry, thanks for everything. Don't blame yourself for my death, blame that...  _thing_  standing over there."

"Let go, son, we'll handle the rest," says Harry's father.

"You can't hold on any longer, sweetheart, break it now," adds Lily Potter.

"Now!" Harry jerks his wand upwards, severing the golden beam between them as the phoenix song and web fizzle out. The ghostly echoes remain behind, with Mr. Parkinson obscuring himself from view as they close in on Voldemort.

His legs carry him as fast as they can once Harry runs from the spot. The shouts of Voldemort has many Death Eaters flinging spells at Harry, who soon reaches Alyssa's body. No spells are needed on his behalf as he spots the Cup nearby, courtesy of Alyssa's earlier interrupted summoning charm. Two stunners fly overhead before Harry grabs the girl, then leaps to touch the Cup with his free arm as the ghostly echoes disperse.

In a matter of seconds he arrives at the entrance to the maze. Frozen still by shock and a surge of guilt, Harry remains holding Alyssa tightly. His grasp and tears refusing to let up even as the crowd cheers while Dumbledore hurries towards him.

"Harry?"

Once turned over by his Headmaster, Harry shakes his head while whispering through the tremendous cheers of the crowd.

"He's back, Voldemort has returned!"

"What is going on over there?" Cornelius Fudge, who's opted to meet the winner of tonight's glorious event, walks over towards them. But the Minister's face immediately goes a shade of horrified white upon looking down at Harry. "She's... dead. She's dead. Dumbledore, this girl's dead!"

Some of the crowd runs over to congratulate Harry's triumphant return... then they freeze on the spot upon hearing Fudge repeating himself in disbelief.

"She's dead. This Parkinson girl is dead."

Although Harry tries to hold onto Alyssa, he finds himself lifted up by Dumbledore while the crowd whispers in shock. Locking eyes with his confused girls in the stands, Harry sees the news slowly being passed around. And once it reaches the five girls, he can't bear to see the expression on Pansy's face. Instead, he tries to explain as much as he can, words pouring out before Harry's brain can even form a proper sentence.

"...trap.. Cup... Voldemort... killed her..."

Three Parkinsons shove their way down from the stands before gasping in horror then clutching at the body of their fallen kin. Never before has Harry, or anyone, seen Pansy as hysterical as this while holding her once favourite cousin in her arms. The girl bully of Slytherin breaks down into a screaming, tearful little girl.

"Who did this, Harry? Who's responsible for all this?" asks Dumbledore, before Harry turns to simply look at Karkaroff. The Durmstrang Head widens his eyes before Professor Moody limps over to Harry and Dumbledore.

"For God's sake, Dumbledore, what is the meaning of all this?" His magical eye seemingly looks through the back of his head at the silent crowd. Silence save for the wailing cries of Pansy clutching at her cousin.

"It really was Karkaroff all along," says a sobbing Harry, who now finds himself unable to shed another tear. A cold, numbing sensation welling up from within.

"Nobody move!" orders Fudge. "The body must be moved, this is a case of murder now. Mr. Crouch, grab Harry Potter's wand and check the last spell he's cast. Then check the other judges and Professors... everyone if need be! We have to find the culprit right now before this crowd leaves."

"It was him!" shouts Harry, before Karkaroff panics and tries to run out the stadium. And as Moody furiously parts the crowd to give chase with Snape, Harry feels his wand wretched from his grip. "Oh no... no... let me explain..."

" _Priori Incantato_." Mr. Crouch connects his wand with Harry's, and now the latter feels sick to the stomach. His face turning the same shade of white that Fudge has just recently recovered from.

 


	39. Help Will Always Be Given...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear in mind that Cornelius Fudge isn't as familiar with Harry here as in canon. This is due to Harry's emotional control having avoided inflating Aunt Marge in '93. Therefore, no Knight Bus nor stay at the Leaky Cauldron inn. Although Fudge has met Harry before, the latter remains very much an unknown to him.

Horrified silence fills the Quidditch stadium as a green lightning bolt lingers above Mr. Crouch and Harry's wands. Now all eyes turn to look at Harry, regardless of Snape and Moody hauling Karkaroff back towards Dumbledore.

Fudge's voice comes low and harsh but enough to pierce the silent air. "Explain this to me, Harry Potter. I think every single person in this stadium would like to know why it is that the Killing Curse is your last spell?"

Harry sits on the ground before a kneeling Dumbledore while the Parkinsons eye him from metres away. Pansy's red-faced expression now shows nothing short of harrowing grief.

"Voldemort's back, and this whole Triwizard Tournament was a trap to lure me to some graveyard far away. He used some Dark Magic to get himself a body and now he's out there having summoned his Death Eaters."

"Oh, okay then." Fudge smiles at Harry. "That makes a lot of sense, yes. Perhaps we should devote all of our resources to finding You-Know-Who."

Harry sighs and smiles in relief.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" Fudge's words shatter whatever relief Harry's just had. "How dare you take the Minister of Magic himself for a fool with such a ridiculously outlandish concoction of a lie?"

Every single person in the stands now views the argument unfold between Cornelius Fudge and one factually guilty Harry Potter.

"I'm telling you the truth, all of you! Come on, give me or Karkaroff some truth serum and we'll tell you what's right. Take my memories of tonight and you'll see it all for yourself!"

"Cornelius, I believe now's the time to listen to Harry," says Dumbledore. "Severus, go and fetch some veritaserum for these two."

"Professor Dumbledore," says Fudge quite calmly. "Have you not forgotten that those of sound mind and strength can fend off that potion? Besides, it only tells the truth he believes in, which may be very much twisted in that powerful mind. Memories are simply far too subjective as well."

Moody slams his staff against the ground in exasperation. "No offense to Potter, but he's not as deadly as you make him out to be! He's just a fourteen year old lad who'd no doubt spill his deepest secrets to veritaserum. I'm with Dumbledore in giving it a chance. Or are you scared of hearing the truth, Minister?"

"I refuse to hear a twisted, warped version of the truth, and I hereby forbid you from influencing public opinion with your potions."

While Fudge speaks, a woman in slightly pink robes steps forward from the front of the crowd to stand beside him.

"The Minister's authority overrides that of yours here, Professor Dumbledore. We will not tolerate sensationalism by means of memories and truth serums."

"Thank you, Umbridge," says Fudge, who now looks at Harry with an actual hint of fear. "You claim that he's not 'deadly' but the facts speak for themselves. Not only has this boy killed You-Know-Who back in the day but also used that very Curse right here tonight. Look at how effective it shows!" The Minister now gestures for everyone to view the notably glowing lightning bolt still lingering above Harry's wand.

"And what if Potter had not cast that Curse? Let us interrogate this witness right here." Snape shoves the bound Karkaroff forward as they stand to Harry's left.

"Oh, that's very kind of you, Professor Snape." Fudge gestures for a few Aurors to step forward. "Kind enough to lend credence to my most likely hypothesis."

If there was ever a moment where Harry's looked upon Snape with respect it is now. Even the man who seemingly hates his guts has taken a stance to defend him from the obvious conclusions of Fudge.

"We are wasting time," says a slightly nervous Snape. "Let Potter and Karkaroff testify under the effects of my potion."

"As I was saying... following the facts, my conclusion is that Harry Potter here is an up-and-coming Dark Lord himself."

More than a few gasps and groans echo throughout the crowd now, though many would be protests are tempered by the facts presented.

Fudge continues with his explanations. "As Minister of Magic, it is my dedicated duty to protect our society from threats both external and internal. I'm sure we remember the days of You-Know-Who's reign of terror. But now it seems our newest Dark Lord, or one for the making, has slipped up tonight. I refuse to subject our society, our people, to such horrors ever again and will therefore stamp out this threat before he gets out of hand."

"Cornelius!" Dumbledore's tone frightens even Harry as his ever-warm nature turns to imposing authority. "You and I, and everyone else gathered here tonight, know that your 'conclusion' is complete rubbish."

"If your protégé is really that innocent then do explain his use of the Killing Curse, please." Fudge looks challengingly at Dumbledore. "And don't tell me it wasn't him. Nobody just lends their wand for someone else to cast that Curse. Besides, every other Champion was out of that maze before Harry Potter and the late Miss Parkinson came out."

The look on Dumbledore's face shows that he's in thought, and determined to defend his student.

Harry interrupts by replying. "I used it against Lord Voldemort! Why wouldn't I? He took away my mum, dad, ruined everything good! He put my godfather in Azkaban for twelve years before Sirius Black was found not guilty. He killed Alyssa too."

"You've killed this girl, Mr. Potter. Give me solid proof that You-Know-Who is back. In your case, since you're so adept with the Killing Curse, truth serum and memories don't count." Fudge now looks challengingly at Harry.

"Damnit," mutters Moody to Dumbledore. "Factually, they've got us on that one."

Dumbledore now turns to speak with the trembling Harry. "I think most would believe your story, especially myself. But why did you have to use the Killing Curse? I know you're not fond of Voldemort but now you've put yourself in a grave set of circumstances."

"Quite literally so." Harry hardly laughs at his poor joke. "I don't know what else to say here, sir."

Standing up to his full height, Dumbledore now speaks to Fudge. "You can argue the 'facts' all you want, Minister, but the truth is that Harry Potter is innocent." He turns to look at the tearful Pansy. "Would you believe him guilty of this?"

While looking at his grieving friend, Harry's heart pounds in his chest from uncertainty. Then, as Pansy shakes her head, Harry feels that he could certainly kiss her now.

"The girl is stricken with grief, Dumbledore, and hardly makes a fair witness," says the woman called Umbridge.

"I will testeefy zat 'Arry will nevair evair do something like zis!" shouts a misty-eyed Fleur, whose defence only deepens the affection in his heart.

"Silence!" orders Fudge. "Of course you'll all jump to his defence. You're his friends, or more... as Miss Skeeter's written, so it's far too biased. If there's one thing a Dark Lord's good at, it's deceit and manipulation. Or they may, at times, prove charismatic enough to sway many to their side."

"Are you an idiot?" shouts Sirius from the stands. "I've been in Azkaban myself and can assure you that Harry's in no way as evil as that lot!"

"Mr. Black, you've been in those stands all evening and in no way would know what's happened here tonight—"

"And neither do you!" Sirius is desperately held back by Bill and Mrs. Weasley, both of whom seem to be notably anxious now.

"Oh I certainly do... we all do! Need Bartemius here display the facts once more? That girl lying there is physically unharmed, as I've been told. It just so happens that Mr. Potter's last spell is the Killing Curse. Can it get any clearer than that?" asks Fudge.

"Far clearer, Cornelius, far clearer," says Dumbledore gravely. "You are about to make one of the biggest mistakes of your career right now. Please do consider that."

"Threats and intimidation will not sway me, Headmaster. Let me add more weight to my hypothesis..."

As Fudge continues to speak, Harry now recalls the words of some student he'd spoken to in a corridor one day. Words which had mentioned how the things people do have a way of coming back to them.

"Besides his usage of the Killing Curse, I'd like to remind you of that Patronus thing he did at his Quidditch games. Had they not resembled the Dark Mark in some manner? And let us not forget another important fact: Harry Potter is a Parselmouth. Let those words sink in."

"He's ripping us apart out here, Albus," mutters Moody desperately. "We need to give the boy a solid defence before Fudge does something stupid."

"I've had enough of this bullying," says Professor McGonagall, who's backed up by those having patrolled around the maze earlier. "All of us here have seen no signs indicating that Mr. Potter's killed Miss Parkinson."

"Yeh're outta yer ruddy mind if yer think Harry's a Dark Wizard! This is Buckbeak style all over again..."

"This boy has been nothing but a pleasure to have in my class over the years," insists Flitwick. "I'm no stranger to seeing Dark Magic, and Mr. Potter's certainly never been one to show such inclinations."

"Thank you for the input," says Fudge. "But this is all based on opinions and shallow observations. My point remains to be challenged: a girl dead clearly by the Killing Curse, and Harry Potter's wand showing just that spell."

"I have no regrets about using it on Voldemort," says Harry. "Anyone who's ever lost a loved one would seek retribution."

Sighing loudly and irritably, Fudge throws his arms in the air. "Alright then, let us indulge your most persistent defence. Suppose we all believe your outlandish lies... how did you meet You-Know-Who?"

"Ask him."—Harry points to a terrified Karkaroff—"He's the one who's set me up and made the Cup into a Portkey, which took us to some graveyard somewhere."

"Right." Fudge seems clearly disbelieving of this. "If this Tournament was a trap for  _you_  alone then why was the late Miss Parkinson entered as well?"

"I... I don't know. Karkaroff, say something!" demands Harry.

"He'd better talk before I—"

"Alastor, now's not the time for that. Nothing Karkaroff says, veritaserum or not, will be taken seriously by Fudge," says Dumbledore, before turning to address the Minister. "Might I ask for an opportunity to use the truth serum on Karkaroff? I believe his students would like an explanation for his attempted fleeing earlier."

The Durmstrang students now clearly appear to be glancing at their uncharacteristically fearful Headmaster.

"In private? Yes. Out here? No. Of course Headmaster Karkaroff is terrified," says Umbridge quite calmly. "He's had a very unfortunate life before coming clean and providing the Ministry with valuable information years ago. Naturally, the suspicion would fall on him. Mr. Potter has probably confunded or controlled him into assisting with tonight's murder."

"What?" Harry looks around at the many faces staring his way. "Why in the world would I even do that?  _How_  would I do that?"

"Not many fourteen-year olds can perform such an effective Killing Curse as shown by the  _Incantato_  earlier," says Fudge. "Who knows what other Dark Magic you're capable of doing? Even without your peers' and teachers' knowledge."

"If you're saying that I'm more powerful than Durmstrang's Headmaster, then surely that's an insult to his students?" Harry's statement has the Durmstrangs angrily swearing at Umbridge and Fudge before the latter raises his voice.

"Silence! There we go! Using sensationalism like any Dark Lord would. Grindelwald, You-Know-Who... all of them went about trying to incite people."

"Harry." Dumbledore shakes his head. "Fudge is caught up in his own ego now. You see _this_ is why I've refused the Minister's post so many times over the years. I think it'd be best for you to remain silent."

"Yes, sir."

"Muttering advice to your future Dark Wizard, Dumbledore? Are you seeking to reclaim the glory of 1945 by raising Potter to be defeated by you... for more public attention?" asks Umbridge.

"HOW DARE YEH SAY SUMMAT LIKE—"

"Hagrid." Dumbledore calmly walks over to avoid a confrontation. "It is okay, such false accusations tend to be all over these days."

Feigning shock, Umbridge turns to look at Fudge. "We were almost the victims of a giant assault. Truly this 'man' is a danger to this establishment as Miss Skeeter's reported earlier this year."

"I'm very much inclined to agree, Dolores."

"Come on!" Harry decides to ignore Dumbledore's previous orders. "You deliberately set him up only to play victim from a justified response? You politicians can really grate on my nerves!"

With a smug grin, Umbridge once again turns to Fudge. "Sounds like Mr. Potter's got it in for the Ministry and our officials. Did You-Know-Who not express similar mannerisms back in the day? Especially towards the Ministry's tolerance of Muggleborns learning magic."

"Here's the deal, the one and only deal." Fudge stands confidently now. "If you're that determined to prove yourself innocent then you've got until tomorrow evening to formulate a defence. Otherwise you'll be awaiting the Kiss and—"

Howls of protest now sound from Harry's supporters, and more, in the crowd, causing the Aurors to quell the situation. Fortunately, none are hurt as Fudge now seems thoughtful. Although he speaks softly to one of the Aurors, Harry overhears some of the discussion.

"Not the Kiss, Minister."

"You're in no position to boss me around, Nymphadora Tonks."

"If you give Harry Potter to the dementors like that, you can 'kiss' your career goodbye. Dark Wizard or not, this is still just a 14 year old even if he's done the  _Avada Kedavra_. I'm sure you can understand the public's perception of a kid losing his soul, then spending the rest of his life as a... shell of a man."

"Damn, you're actually right, Miss Tonks. Last thing we need is a likable martyr symbol for the Dark Wizards out there... very well."

While Fudge prepares to change his statement, Harry looks most gratefully at Tonks. The latter's expression shows that she believes in Harry's word, even as Fudge speaks:

"After some reconsideration... Harry Potter will still have until tomorrow evening to formulate a proper defence. Otherwise, it'll be a snapping of his wand, and being sentenced to Azkaban... most likely for life."

"FOR LIFE? FOR WHAT?" Sirius struggles against essentially every Weasley that's holding him back in the crowd. "If this is an ironic joke then it's not funny at all! I didn't come all this way just to watch a sick déjà vu! Screw  _your_  confunded mind, Cornelius!"

"We should head inside and take Karkaroff with us," says Dumbledore to those desperately gathered around him. "Severus, I believe you'll be needing to do some explanations of your own elsewhere tonight."

Snape nods before turning to look, with actual pity for a change, at Harry.

"You'd better have a good defence, Potter. There are all sorts of nasty on that wretched island."

"Dolores, these allegations are proving troublesome indeed," says Fudge, as the crowd are told to disperse. "Let's find a place to sit and discuss things going forward."

"Yes, I agree, Minister."

Most of the crowd seems to be trying to get near Harry now, while demanding to understand just what's happened tonight. But try as they might, the Aurors and school staff have no choice but to send them back to the castle. Many faces of varying expressions are spotted by Harry now as he tries to approach the Parkinsons.

"Pansy... I swear... I didn't k—"

His statement is cut off as she grabs him into a tearful hug, pressing her cheek against his before holding him close.

"Of course you didn't, and I'm pretty sure everyone can see that. Oh God, I can't believe... how... why is she gone? They can't send you away, Harry, I don't want them to take you away. You don't deserve to go to prison, it's... not fair. I don't want to lose you too!"

"I shouldn't have used the Killing Curse against Voldemort, Pansy, I shouldn't have... No, I did the right thing."

Harry sees Alyssa's parents looking at him before putting their daughter on a stretcher. It seems they'd prefer to show respect by not levitating her around. Wordlessly, the two Parkinsons simply walk away with sullen expressions. Just as Pansy tries to respond, Harry pulls away from the hug before turning around.

"What? Harry, please don't go..."

"There's no point now... no point in trying to be happy anymore. The dementors are waiting for me... unless I can somehow convince everyone that I'm really innocent." His heart races while slight beads of sweat form on his forehead and palms. "I hope it's not a life sentence."

Finally, Sirius runs right up to grab Harry into his own tearful hug.

"HOW CAN THEY DO THIS DO YOU? _Why_ did you cast the Killing Curse?"

"It was Voldemort, the man who ruined my life. I did what I felt he deserved."

"You and your friends got me cleared, we fixed up my house... and now this? Harry, Azkaban is no joke, and you're just a kid!" Sirius glances wildly around while trying to think up a plan. "Mandrake leaf... gotta wait for the right time, damn! There's no time to try and risk you becoming an Animagu—"

"I don't care about that."

"I don't want to lose you! There's no way I broke out after twelve years only to watch my godson take my place. Fudge's dead set on his 'facts' now, Harry, you hardly stand a chance. We can either fight this battle or take the opportunity to run away... live like fugitives! It's better than Azkaban, trust me."

"Truth be told, I don't even know what to do anymore..." Harry leans against the front of the empty stands before slumping to the ground.

"The Aurors will be stationed across the school to keep track of you," says Mr. Crouch, who approaches from the stadium's exit to return Harry's wand. "Is it true... everything you just said about You-Know-Who?"

Harry nods before looking at Mr. Crouch. "Everything, and your son was right there tonight."

"I know it doesn't mean much but thank you for not letting that slip out here." Mr. Crouch adopts a thoughtful expression now. "I'm going to see if I can pile some pressure on Fudge to negotiate your inevitable sentence."

"Oh please, what negotiating powers do you still have?" asks Sirius quite derisively.

"Learn by example, and I'm sure he wouldn't want to risk his 'favourable' record by making the same mistakes I had. Just like Barty brought me down, so can Harry do Fudge."

"You do realize," says Harry sternly. "That it's only a matter of time before your son's sighted. What then for you?"

"I don't know... I honestly don't know!" Mr. Crouch swiftly turns around. "I'll be with the grieving family and their daughter's school now."

The stadium is now empty, save for Harry, Sirius, and a couple of Aurors keeping surveillance.

"Sirius... I'm scared. I'll admit that I'm damn scared now." Harry's voice now takes on a shivering tone at the prospect of life in Azkaban. "I... I'd rather spend my life at the Dursleys than prison."

"The others will find a way, Harry, they must find a way!" Sirius walks Harry all the way up to the castle before joining Dumbledore, Snape, Moody, and McGonagall interrogating Karkaroff in the Defence Against the Dark Arts Office. Fleur and Hermione soon enter, both girls now staring wide-eyed at Harry and Karkaroff.

"He's under truth serum," says Dumbledore, as Harry and Sirius enter the crowded room. At this point, Sirius barely bothers with Snape as Dumbledore mentions Karkaroff having so far revealed Crouch Jr.'s threats on his family. "So why had you not reported those threats to anyone?"

While he sits bound in a chair, Karkaroff's eyelids flicker before he answers.

"Because I did not know how many of the Dark Lord's followers were still out there... waiting to kill my wife and children! Barty Crouch Jr. did not specify a number but said I'm better off not knowing."

"Son of a—"

"Sirius, be calm," orders Dumbledore, before he continues to question Karkaroff. "Did you show any hesitation or reluctance to follow with Voldemort's plans?"

"Yes!" Karkaroff nods truthfully. "Over and over I said 'no' until the murder I mentioned earlier. They still haven't officially found the culprit, but I'm certain it's Barty or someone else."

Everyone else in the room watches on in silence as Dumbledore continues the interrogation. "Explain everything about what happened with the Goblet of Fire."

Karkaroff blinks again before answering. "The plan was to get Harry Potter to touch the Triwizard Cup, so he needed to be entered as well. I placed a Confundus Charm as well as some Dark Magic to trick the Goblet into accepting Harry Potter under a fourth school. Then I needed to help Potter through, but that was tricky because I was not part of Hogwarts. However, it soon became clear that Potter was friends with Holly Parkinson's daughter. It was initially fortunate that her relative was here. Therefore, I entered her under a fifth school, risky business but there was no better plan without arousing more suspicion. You must also know that I not only added two Champions but also changed one existing entry."

"What?" Harry glances in shock at Karkaroff, while Fleur looks at both of them.

"The original Hogwarts Champion picked by the Goblet was going to be Cedric Diggory. But you see, I had been doing my research on Potter. As much we needed him to win, we also had to control his relationships with others. Funnelling him down a path, figuratively speaking."

Harry takes one look at Hermione as a tear rolls down his cheek. From the look on her face, it's clear she knows what Harry's thinking... and what Karkaroff's about to mention.

"Potter always saw himself as being the best of his House, Slytherin. And Slytherin never really liked their main rivals, Gryffindor. When I found out about Angelina Johnson putting her name in, this presented an opportunity which I took. More hoodwinking of the Goblet led to a Gryffindor opponent for Potter. Far less chances of partnering up and risking him not touching the Cup alone later. This was made even better by Viktor Krum dating the Gryffindor Mudblood girl who Potter so often kept his eyes on. It created a bigger rift between the two Hogwarts Champions... and between Viktor and Potter. I did not want a friendship forming between Viktor and Potter, otherwise it would've complicated things."

"I've been played like a fool all year long," mutters Harry, while being comforted by Sirius as Karkaroff continues to speak.

"All year long I wanted to keep Potter siding with the two Beauxbatons girls. This meant fixing my scores to have Potter do well, while keeping the Beauxbatons girls close by. The plan was to have them follow him to the finale where they'd be removed early from the final task. Then, Viktor was to take out Johnson before himself... thereby gifting Potter the Cup."

"So what went wrong with that plan?" asks Harry, though Dumbledore reiterates the question for clarity.

"Potter earned respect by how he flew in his Quidditch matches. His performance against Viktor, even with all the odds against him, was nothing short of admirable. Especially how he changed his mind set to a team effort when it became clear that he could not best Viktor. He even managed to bring the opponent's old Captain to his side, that would surely have taken a great effort to get right."

"Tell us what happened with the maze, forget retelling the other tasks and events," says Dumbledore sternly.

"Barty Sr. almost ruined the plan when he made everyone suspicious with his confession. Security might have been beefed up, but I managed to get to the Cup in a prime opportunity. After Moody placed it there before dinner, the security enchantments also had to be lifted for the event. That is when I quickly ran into the maze to turn the Cup into a Portkey."

Karkaroff's scheming has everyone looking disgustingly at him, none more so than Harry himself, though he does recall something odd.

"What happened to Viktor Krum in that maze? He was behaving strangely, why?" asks Harry.

"It wasn't easy to do, not with everyone patrolling the maze. Moody, especially, with that eye made it so that I had to place the Imperius Curse on Viktor already back at the ship. He did not know, of course. I told him to behave as he normally would with everyone, which he did. By the start of the maze task, I had technically done what the Dark Lord had asked. Everything was in place..."

Something still feels strange to Harry, before he inquires more about Krum in the maze. The question suddenly causes Karkaroff to begin tearing up.

"When Viktor was about to run into the maze I whispered for him to find and stop every Champion from winning this task, which included Harry Potter too. There wasn't much time to whisper to Viktor so I guess the instructions were not detailed enough. He managed to get the Fleur girl out first, so she was safe. Viktor was strong and a good duellist so he was told to use all but lethal means to knock out the Champions, to stop anyone from touching that Portkey."

"What a bunch of rubbish! The serum's definitely wearing off," says Sirius, before Harry suddenly shakes his head. A strange feeling building up from within.

"No, Karkaroff isn't lying at all." Harry's words cause everyone to look at him. "Krum certainly seemed odd, as though under the Imperius Curse. He kept repeating over and over that none of us can win. That he was going to stop all of us, including himself from getting to that Cup. If I had known..."

"I am sorry, Harry Potter," says Karkaroff. "I did not want things to end this way. But you must understand that I did not know how many of the Dark Lord's people could be watching my family. Now I realize there were none at all, and now there's the blood of a talented girl on my hands. Nobody deserves to lose their child, especially one who was as gifted as that girl. If only I could have stopped all this from happening... but I could not! Even the slightest tip-off to anyone and what if the Dark Lord had found out? I sincerely beg forgiveness from Alyssa Parkinson but she is gone."

"Enough," says Dumbledore, before turning to Harry. "Everything sounds in order, so what do you make of this?"

With all eyes on him, Harry drops his gaze upon replying. "Now I just don't know. I mean, it's not entirely his fault."

"That is how Lord Voldemort works," sighs Dumbledore. "He manipulates and throws people aside without a care in the world. But what have you noticed from Karkaroff's confession?"

"He tried to stand up to Voldemort, even though it was far too late... He at least tried, sincerely so." Harry sees Dumbledore nodding at his words.

"And that is more than I had actually expected from Igor Karkaroff. Perhaps he is not as cowardly as we've always believed." Dumbledore looks up to see McGonagall narrowing her eyes.

"He's still responsible for two atrocities today, Albus. What are we going to do with him?"

"Voldemort didn't speak too highly of him," admits Harry. "If he somehow finds out that Karkaroff's tried to stand up to him..."

"He'll be killed without hesitation," adds Snape. "Never thought I'd develop the tiniest hint of  'respect'  for this fool."

"Nobody was supposed to win," says Karkaroff. "Nobody was supposed to die..."

"Professor, if we let him loose he'll get himself killed one way or another," says Harry. "Also, Fudge and his minions refuse to believe anything about Voldemort tonight. So Karkaroff most likely might not be persecuted at all."

"We'll discuss what to do with him later." Dumbledore now stuns Karkaroff unconscious before turning to Harry. "I think we'd all like to hear what happened in that graveyard you mentioned. Don't worry, none of this can be heard by Karkaroff now."

Harry tries his best to describe from landing in the graveyard with Alyssa, to finally facing the Dark Lord.

"I won't deny that I simply hate him so much that it got the Killing Curse going quite effectively. Then our spells collided... but how... why? The Killing Curse is supposed to be unblockable even by another one. The green turned gold and then there was this cage and phoenix song everywhere and—"

" _Priori Incantatem_ ," says Dumbledore calmly. "Two wands sharing a core from the same animal cannot be forced to do battle—"

"Excuse me, Professor Dumbledore, but since when does Mr. Potter share the same core as You-Know-Who?" asks McGonagall, whose question has everyone (except the unconscious Karkaroff) now looking in surprise.

"Since the day he bought it from Mr. Ollivander, who notified me quite swiftly of this event. When two brother wands collide in battle, one will force the other to regurgitate its spells last performed, but in reverse order."

"Force?" Harry looks at Dumbledore. "Is that what those hot beads were doing while between our wands?"

Dumbledore nods before asking Harry to continue.

"I guess I won then, because ghostly echoes of Voldemort's latest victims came out. Alyssa, some old Muggle man, Bertha Jorkins..." Harry stops as he now sees everyone looking knowingly at him.

Both Fleur and Hermione's eyes (and to some extent even Professor McGonagall's) begin to tear up.

"I met my mum and dad tonight." Harry spots Snape glancing at him so swiftly that it's quite surprising.

"James? You met Lily and James?" asks Sirius, whose tone of voice seems utterly astonished. "I should've gone with you then."

"Damn good people those were, bet they were proud of their son," says Moody. "Bet they didn't care what House you're in, right?"

"Yeah well... mum said something about how I'm not the only 'good' Slytherin she's known. Dunno what that means." While looking down, most fail to see the warning look shot at Sirius from Dumbledore, and the brief change in Snape's expression.

"I assume you broke the connection and made your escape then?" asks Dumbledore.

"Yeah, thanks to Alyssa the Cup was close enough to reach on foot. But if I'd known _this_ misunderstanding would happen... should've cast another spell over my last one."

"Regardless," says Snape. "Now's the time to build up whatever can dissuade Fudge from making one foolish mistake."

Hermione suddenly gasps, while Fleur also looks up.

"But if they end up snapping Harry's wand—"

"'E will lose ze advantage of ze brother core!"

"I was just about to say that, clever lasses," mutters Moody, who doubles checks to confirm that Karkaroff's still unconscious.

"At least I'm not gonna get Kissed, so that's a start. I overheard Tonks chatting a bit of sense into Fudge earlier."

"Dora did that?" Sirius smiles widely. "Why can't all my cousins be like her? Remind me to spoil her good."

"She's a damn angel... and then there's that other woman who's spoken to Fudge like a pink devil..." Harry sighs.

"Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister himself. Fudge's personal Blast-Ended Skrewt if you'd like," says Moody. "You kids would do best to stay far away from that devil. Potter here just got himself a taste of dirty politics, remember how she twisted your words?"

"That's the kind of rubbish we're now up against. And they've got facts on their side with regards to my Killing Curse."

"We'll all do our best in your defence, Harry," says Dumbledore. "After all, help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."

"Well, right now I'm begging."

 


	40. The Verdict

Following Karkaroff's interrogation, Harry spends the rest of the night discussing Voldemort's return with Dumbledore. Then, once he's finished detailing the ritual used in the graveyard, Harry barely manages to cover up his yawn.

"You should get some rest for tonight. Leave the discussions and arguments for us to build," says Dumbledore.

After tucking himself into a bed in the hospital wing, Harry removes his glasses before speaking.

"If they snap my wand and send me to Azkaban then... then what happens? Even if I had to choose between them I wouldn't be able to. That Priori effect saved my life tonight, so losing my wand means Voldemort basically wins."

Dumbledore, who's now seen as a blurry figure beside Harry's bed, pauses for thought before replying. "From the way you've described it, Voldemort doesn't seem to be aware of the connection between your wands. But if Fudge gets his way, and Voldemort uncovers the link... no, I can't let his foolishness place you in harm's way."

"Professor." Harry's voice sounds noticeably shaky as he holds his wand dearly. "I don't want to lose this, I can't lose all this. Even if they reconsider their decision afterwards... my wand would be broken beyond repair. This is my wand we're talking about!"

"You're right in that wands cannot be repaired... normally. You certainly do need that wand, Harry, it's rightfully yours and a great asset against Voldemort."

"Wait, is there actually a way to repair a wand, sir?"

"Doing so would arouse many unwanted questions and attention on the wand that does it. Questions best left unasked, lest a whole new chapter of murder and ownership be opened again."

Harry frowns in confusion (which feels odd without his glasses) at Dumbledore's cryptic remark. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean."

"Trust me, all the best that way. Power corrupts even the brightest of wizards."

Just as Dumbledore stands up from his chair to leave, Harry turns to look at him.

"Professor, I suppose I'll have to apologize for firing that Curse today."

A short pause is followed by Dumbledore's reply. "I can understand how you must have felt in that graveyard. However, I would strongly suggest that you refrain from using it again. Now, it'd be best for you to get some much needed sleep before tomorrow."

Following these words, Harry shuts his eyes and tries his best to let sleep overcome him tonight. Thoughts and memories of Voldemort's return flood his mind, but Alyssa's death stands out above all. Each closing of Harry's eyes is met with seeing the late Champion falling back from a blast of green. Seconds turn to minutes... and possibly an hour as Harry remains tossing and turning in his bed.

_"I got a shot on Lord Voldemort himself_." These words now echo through Harry's mind, over and over and over...

"Sit up, Mr. Potter," says Madam Pomfrey, as she walks to approach Harry in the darkened hospital wing. "You deserve a peaceful night's sleep, especially after everything you've endured tonight. No, leave your glasses be and just take a few gulps of this."

"What is it?" asks Harry, who can hardly see anything while looking in the direction of the approaching matron.

"Sleeping Draught, much like your Housemates Crabbe and Goyle were spiked with by Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malone, and Miss Granger, a few years back. It should provide a deep, dreamless sleep which you certainly require tonight."

After thanking Madam Pomfrey for her assistance, Harry takes a few gulps of the draught before immediately tucking himself back into bed...

Something soft and warm seems to be moving across his cheek as he awakes to a bright Friday morning. His eyes slowly open to a welcome sight of blue ones staring back at him. Though everything be blurred, Harry smiles upon discerning a face that almost glows in the sun's rays shining through the windows.

"Good morning, you are a real sight for sore eyes, even though you're mostly a blur now."

It takes him a few seconds to realize that Fleur's caressing his cheek. She now stops to cup her warm palm against it while speaking softly... worriedly.

"Eet is not a good morning for me, and possibly ze day will not be good for you." From the sound of her voice, it seems that she's been in tears all morning. "I do not want to speak about Alyssa, she... she is in a better place now I am sure. Ze truth is zat zere is nothing we can do for 'er anymore. She was a good friend, nice, stubborn sometimes, fun to duel with—"

"You're talking about her now."

"O', I did not mean to bring zat up, I know it must 'urt you a lot after last night. We all really are devastated from losing our 'Ead Girl so... so suddenly. I did not even take ze opportunity of finding 'er a good boy to fall in love with... while she was still with us."

"Just... stop speaking about her, please. It's bad enough that I'm going to be hearing about it for who knows how long? No doubt people now take me for a murderer, and you know what? It's partly my fault for using the Killing Curse last night."

"Come with me, 'Arry! We can go back to ze beautiful France, zere I will take good care of you and teach you ze more refined ways of life and—"

"Fleur." Harry squints to get his aim on point before putting a finger on her lip. "No matter what happens now, I'm still a prisoner."

"Zat is not true, you are innocent! I know it, you know it, and I 'ope many uzzer people out zere know it too. Zey will find you not guilty... zey must! 'Ow can anyone even zink to blame you of murder? We all know you 'ave used  _zat_  Curse, but I know you well enough to see an innocent boy before me. Of course you would 'ave wanted to kill ze You-Know-'Oo zat 'as taken away your parents and many uzzers. My brave leetle man is no prisoner."

"I'm afraid you just don't understand what I mean. Guilty or not, everything is going to change now. Perhaps, if there weren't so many threats against me out there, I could've travelled with you. But I'm only safe in very few places such as Hogwarts and my homes." His glasses are finally slipped on by Fleur, and it hurts for Harry to see her saddened expression. "You surprise me, for a seventeen year old. Surely you've had other guys before?"

She grabs him by the cheeks to hold him dearly. "Never before 'ave I met a boy like you—"

Harry gives the slightest of laughs while looking at Fleur. "Such a clichéd line, like something out of a movie."

"A lovely leetle man zat is now at risk of being falsely thrown to ze dementors!"

Silence ensues as Harry tries his best to act calm, to mask any feelings of weakness here. But as he locks eyes with Fleur again, Harry feels even his most resilient resistance begin to crumble.

"Stop using your veela charm to soften me up, it's not fair."

"I am not doing anything, it is you zat is softening up by yourself. Now would you like to bring you some breakfast?"

"You don't have to do favours and serve to impress me, Fleur. I really do appreciate the gesture but let me go and fetch my own." Harry sits up in bed, but Fleur immediately puts her hand on his chest.

"You should not be going to ze Great 'All now. Zere is lots of ill-talk going around about you, although I 'ave managed to speak some sense into my people."

"Have I ever told you that you're just so beautiful?"

"You do not need to tell me what I already know." Fleur's confident smile has Harry slightly laughing.

"I'll think of you when I'm in Azkaban, the dementors can come at me all they want."

"No." She runs her fingers through his hair. "You are staying 'ere, safe and sound in zis castle or at 'ome. Stay right 'ere while I go fetch breakfast." Her tone sounds quite final, and therefore Harry lets her head back to the Great Hall. Only once she returns does he shake his head while smiling in amusement.

"You could've organised one of the kitchen House Elves to do just this."

With breakfast tray in hand, Fleur sets it down on Harry's lap before taking her seat in a bedside chair. "Maybe, but I just wanted to do it."

"Well, thank you for doing what is probably the last bits of kindness I'll get. Doubt the dementors will be as nice as you."

"Stop saying zat! We will find a way to keep you free."

"And how exactly are 'we' all going to prove that my Killing Curse wasn't aimed at Alyssa?"

"I am not going to get angry at you for using it, but zat was a decision zat is now making everything difficult. Ze uzzers are busy discussing and discussing all morning long in Dumbly-dorr's office."

"I'm not sure if visitors are allowed in Azkaban, but if so then I'd love to see your face again." Harry's arm is smacked by Fleur as he starts on his breakfast.

"Eat up... eat up and do not talk about zat prison again. When you are finished with ze food zen I will take ze tray back to ze Great 'All." Then, suddenly, Fleur begins to tear up while watching Harry eat. "Zey did put Meester Karkaroff under ze truth serum zis morning in ze 'All."

"Really?" Harry looks quite hopefully at her now. "That's great!"

But Fleur simply shakes her head, while her long silvery blonde hair swishes from side-to-side. "Zat ugly lady wearing 'er disgusting pink robes did some 'clarification' afterwards. She said zat truth serums are not always giving ze truth, and zat Karkaroff was influenced by you. O' 'ow I wish you did not use zat Curse, 'Arry..." She grabs him into a tight hug that nearly slips the tray off Harry's lap.

"But does anyone believe the real truth out there?"

"Yes, it seems zat a lot of Gryffindors believe in ze You-Know-'Oo return. Also, I zink eet is good zat Dumbly-dorr did not ask Karkaroff about 'is switching of ze original choices of ze Goblet. So zere is no anger towards Angelina 'aving been a Champion."

"But we do owe Cedric an explanation," says Harry.

"'Ow will zat boy take such news? To 'ave been cheated out of a spot like zat..."

"He'll take it okay, because it's not like he's gonna... I dunno... suddenly go crazy and evil on us just because he never got his way. I know Cedric well by now, and he's a good person with a great heart. The sad truth is that I think Karkaroff unintentionally saved that boy's life this year...hmm..."

"And what does zat mean, 'Arry?"

"Karkaroff said he chose Angelina because Slytherins really dislike Gryffindors. Well, can you imagine if Cedric actually got in? You saw how I softened up towards him during this year..."

"Let us not talk about zat now... Alyssa would 'ave still been 'ere, but zen you might 'ave taken ze Cedric boy along."

"So, either way a death was pretty much guaranteed this year. How do you think I feel knowing that I could've saved her had I just been selfish? I shouldn't have softened up from Alyssa's little speech!" Harry pounds his fist into the hospital bedsheets, causing Fleur to hold him close for a comforting hug.

"To get back on ze earlier topic, some of ze Ravenclaw people believe in Karkaroff's confession."

"What about Hufflepuff?"

"Zey seem to believe you too, especially from Cedric Diggory telling zem zat you are certainly not evil. Yes, you denied zem ze Quidditch Cup last year but zat is old news now. As for your own 'Ouse, well... zere are a lot of people zat believe you. But zere are many zat are scared of ze truth as well."

"So at least half the school basically thinks I'm not a rising Dark Lord?"

"If you were, zen you would be ze cutest bad guy ever." She tries to laugh but finds it difficult now. "I 'ope you are found innocent, really I do."

While Fleur exits the room with breakfast tray in hand, Harry decides to lie back on his hospital bed until she eventually returns.

"Everything alright out there? I wish I could leave this bloody hospital wing already."

Fleur smiles at Harry, her expression noticeably saddened again. "Zere are a few Aurors patrolling ze castle, including ze corridors outside. I wish my last week at zis castle 'ere could be a 'appier one, but it is not so. If zere is anything you would like zen feel free to ask. 'Owever, we cannot do anything  _nice_ "—she blushes a slight bit while speaking—"'ere now.

"Feel free to do whatever you want," says Harry, and Fleur starts pacing up and down the empty hospital wing. She goes from the nearby stove, then to Harry, and to looking out the large windows. Every so often, he spots her looking his way most worriedly which already tells him that something's not quite right.

Harry's lunch break is soon spent in the hospital wing with Fleur as they eat together in near silence. He's rarely seen her  _this_  caring and almost motherly towards him as the hours pass by. Then, at around mid-afternoon, the hospital doors seemingly burst open which startles both Harry and Fleur.

"Who's th—" His words are cut off as someone dashes to grab him swiftly (and tightly) into a hug while he sits on the bed.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry! Dumbledore and the others have been debating with the Minister's group all afternoon long." A very tearful Hermione holds him close before continuing. "We didn't all have to stay but everyone stayed in the Great Hall to view your 'trial' so to speak. I know there's still time until this evening but they've all argued as much as they can. Dumbledore raised some mighty good points which we can all see makes sense."

"Then why are you apologizing?" asks Harry, with a sinking feeling growing stronger by the minute.

"Because there's nothing more they could argue in your defence. Should I start with the good news or bad?"

"Good, please."

Hermione wipes the tears from her eyes (while Fleur does the same) as she speaks. "You won't be going into Azkaban for life, and you will not be getting the Kiss, like you heard Tonks argue yesterday."

"Alright, so let's hear the bad..." Harry sighs even before Hermione speaks.

"They're— They're..."

"I zink I know what she is going to say. I am so, so, so sorry, my brave leetle 'Arry."

"They're going to destroy your wand."

These words hit Harry harder than he'd ever thought while imagining the scenario. The wand that's rightfully his, that's saved him from Voldemort tonight, and which has given him the opportunity of meeting his parents. Even as Hermione holds him close, Harry can't help but struggle to remain calm.

"It's the proof of the Killing Curse." Hermione pauses to control her own tears. "There's no arguing against the fact that you've used it—"

"I know what you're going to say," says Harry. " _I told you so_ , from before, right?"

Hermione nods, her expression tearing through Harry as she continues to speak. "The argument between your guilt and Voldemort's return still stands. It's one or the other, and right now there's no 'definite' proof for Fudge to believe the latter. However, the Minister and his people have settled upon a provisional Azkaban sentence of three months... THREE MONTHS IN THAT HELL HOLE!"

"But you 'ave feinted last year from when some dementors 'ave came onto ze Quidditch pitch, or so I 'ave 'eard!"

"They're actually sending me to Azkaban? Is snapping my wand not enough?" Harry's expression turns to absolute horror at the thought of either of these decisions. "What the hell... I... Hermione, Fleur, what do I do now? I can't go to prison, I shouldn't be going to prison... WHY AM I GOING THERE?"

"You should've seen the Great Hall after they said that. People went nuts at Fudge and whoever that Umbridge woman is. They were, and still are as the Aurors are trying to quell the situation, yelling insults. Someone threw more than a few chocolate frogs towards that Umbridge woman while a few goblets went flying from some of the students. Viktor's looking terribly sad, Harry, I know you've never liked him this year but he truly feels bad for all your trouble. Headmaster Karkaroff also had to be escorted from the Hall, especially since his students are clearly mortified by his actions."

"I thought you said nobody believes in Voldemort's return?" asks Harry, who's trying his best to control his boiling emotions.

"That point remains a 50/50 kinda thing, but what Umbridge is saying is that Karkaroff's been tampering with the Tournament under your orders. So maybe the Durmstrangs don't fully believe in Voldemort's return, but they sure don't believe you were 'influencing' their Headmaster."

"So they blame all the weirdness and extra Champions stuff on him?"

Still tearing from the news, Hermione nods before continuing. "Yes, they sure do and he's going to be sacked from his position but not punished. I'm really sorry, Harry, we all are. Dumbledore's on his way up now and he's not happy with the decision."

"Why the hell are they going to snap my wand if my sentence got negotiated? What's the point of all this?"

"It's symbolic, I think. Anyone could look at you and think to try their luck with that Curse. So that's why they can't just let you get off without... without..." Hermione covers her reddened face while sobbing once again.

The hospital doors burst open yet again, and this time Professor Dumbledore hardly seems all that calm as he strides towards the bed.

"Harry! Listen to me, it's going to be okay. We've brought it down to three months but Fudge simply won't budge anymore."

"And my wand? Professor, they're going to—"

"I know... I know, Harry. But like I've said, it's going to be okay, there is a... plan of sorts in place for that. As strange as this may sound, don't worry too much about your connection to Voldemort's wand. I am truly sorry for everything you're about to endure... Fudge is an absolute fool that thinks you're a symbol to young aspiring Dark wizards out there."

"WHAT? THAT'S COMPLETE RUBBISH!"

Neither Hermione or Fleur can stop themselves from sobbing into tears at Harry's predicament.

"Three months in Azkaban is our main concern right now. I really wish it didn't come to this, Harry, truly I do." The look on Dumbledore's face conveys genuine empathy for Harry, and suddenly the latter feels a sense of... ease.

"I don't blame any of you, sir, you... you've tried your best. Three months compared to life there, that's at least some result." Now Harry draws his wand and gives it a look of sheer regret, and of sorrow as well.

"But, Professor Dumbledore, wands cannot be repaired," says Hermione. "Even if they exonerate Harry at a later stage he'd still have to get a new one."

"We'll leave that for when the time comes, but right now I need to ensure Harry's safety.  _That_ is our top priority. Miss Granger and Miss Delacour, might I ask for a bit of privacy with him?"

Both girls immediately exit the room before Dumbledore puts his hands on Harry's shoulders while speaking.

"Let me say again that I am very sorry you have to endure that place. You must understand that Cornelius Fudge holds all the political power around here. I would never, ever want anyone, especially you, to be punished like this for something you have not done. Azkaban is not joke, I trust you know that by now?"

Tearfully, Harry can but only nod while seeing Dumbledore considering something.

"The others are trying to push for a lighter sentence but I'm not sure Fudge will go below three months. As you've no doubt heard already, we've even let Karkaroff confess under veritaserum in the Great Hall. You might also be interested to know that your sentencing has aroused a rather heated response." Dumbledore slightly smiles but immediately appears concerned once more. "You're exposed in Azkaban, Harry, far more than you'd think."

"It's my fault for using the Killing Curse then, isn't it?"

Dumbledore remains silent before continuing. "This situation requires drastic action now. There is no way I am going to allow a 14 year old to simply be tossed away in Azkaban, especially not you!"

"What's the point of continuing to argue, then? I'm not agreeing with this for one bit but... if I look at the bigger picture..." Harry looks down in shame while speaking. "There are plenty of eyes on this case, sir. If I'm just pardoned after a definite confirmation of using the Killing Curse then others might follow. I can't have other youngsters thinking they can get away because  _Harry Potter_  did so."

The statement elicits a slight expression of surprise by Dumbledore. "You're not saying that... you want to go to Azkaban? Harry, I'm sure you remember Professor Lupin's lessons on dementors? Well, Azkaban is full of them. The risk of Voldemort himself coming after you is definitely there, or have you not considered that? It's not a joke, that prison, where people have lost their minds within weeks... just ask Sirius and he'll tell you what life in Azkaban is like. How can you hope to survive against numerous dementors in there?"

"Because..." Harry looks up at his concerned Headmaster. "I believe in you, sir. If you said you've thought up a plan about my wand then there's hope. I  _am_  going to kill Tom Riddle one day, and if having to spend three months in Azkaban is needed then so be it. Besides, maybe the world doesn't revolve around Harry Potter? I don't think Voldemort is walking around chanting my name every second while wanting to kill just me. He's building an army now, in secret, thanks to Fudge's ignorance."

"If the Minister refuses to drop the Azkaban sentence then I'll personally insist that there be Aurors monitoring that island. In no way am I letting you be forsaken."

A moment of silence passes before Harry speaks. "I should've saved Alyssa, I could've saved her."

"Don't blame yourself for what Voldemort has done."

"Maybe I... deserve this imprisonment for letting her die, for letting her family and friends be in tears over something I could've stopped."

Minutes later, a knock sounds on the doors before a livid Professor McGonagall arrives. Her face redder than Harry's ever seen, and her tone one that has him shocked with fear.

"Nothing we're saying is getting the Minister to reconsider even one bit of his sentencing!" shrieks McGonagall. "Albus, they're going to throw this young man in prison, HE'S JUST A BOY!" Breathing furiously, McGonagall takes a deep breath before racing towards Harry. "Oh dear, Mr. Potter, you have no idea how truly sorry we all are for what's about to happen... your wand..."

Another person soon enters the room, one of the Aurors by the looks of it.

"Harry Potter, the Minister is requesting your presence in the Great Hall now."

As Harry takes his long walk from the hospital wing down, McGonagall holds his hand while Dumbledore appears truly disappointed.

"Not at you, never." He says to Harry. "The Minister has just proven himself to be the biggest, most ignorant coward I've seen this year."

Before entering the Great Hall, Harry pauses to be hugged most apologetically by Tonks, who's standing guard outside.

"They've worked so hard on your defence, Harry, and this is all they could manage. Please, for Sirius' sake, I hope nothing happens to you in Azkaban. I've only just gotten to really know my cousin... but as for you I'm so damn sorry I can't do anything."

"It's okay—"

"No it's not!  _Azkaban_ , Harry, Azkaban! Mad-Eye's already arranging for only a select few of us to monitor that island during your stay. I don't know what words of kindness to offer in this case but... but we'll be there! Mad-Eye, Kingsley Shacklebolt, myself, even Sirius too regardless of not being an Auror. We'll all be there, Harry, just... I don't know what to say anymore."

"I'm going to make it through those three months, nothing's going to break me."

"I hope that's true."

Tonks now releases her hold around him before opening the double doors for Harry to enter. Every single head now turns his way in the recently-settled Great Hall (although a few goblets still lay about). Many students look at Harry with hands covering their mouth, eyes either widened or tearful. Although there are a few faces (such as Nott) who seem almost pleased at this, Harry ignores them before drawing his wand.

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, FUDGE, STOP THIS FOOLISHNESS AT ONCE!" yells Sirius from the Gryffindor table, while being held back by the Weasleys yet again. "DON'T YOU DARE SEND HIM THERE!"

"YEH'RE ALL A BUNCHA ROTTEN COWARDS! ALL OF YEH! LEAVE HARRY ALONE!" yells Hagrid, who stops only by gesture of Dumbledore from across the Great Hall. The Headmaster, who stands to Harry's left near the double doors, merely shakes his head at the Minister.

"Mr. Harry James Potter, we've reached our conclusion following hours of arguments and debate," says Fudge, before Umbridge walks to stand beside him. Meanwhile, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones, watches on with an unreadable expression.

Umbridge happily delivers the verdict. "You have been found guilty of voluntary manslaughter in the killing of Miss Alyssa Parkinson for the Triwizard Cup, who you've refused to allow a joint victory—"

"THAT'S RUBBISH! BOOOO! GO TO HELL!" yells the Weasley twins, which now incites much of the Great Hall once more.

"GET STUFFED!" shouts a red-faced Ginny, who's also taken the lead with verbal protests. Meanwhile, Harry spots Marcus Flint sneakily digging into a sweets bowl before taking aim amidst the rowdy crowd.

"WE WILL HAVE ORDE—"

Then, another chocolate frog comes flying Umbridge's way, hitting her in the face before the Aurors eventually manage to regain order.

"Who threw that?"

Nobody responds, before Umbridge forcibly smiles again.

"As I was saying... Mr. Potter, your wand will now be destroyed, and let this be a clear example to any who would follow in Mr. Potter's footsteps. The use of Unforgivables on people is strictly forbidden. Consider yourself fortunate to be serving merely three months for what would normally be considered a life term, or worse, the Kiss."

Fudge now speaks, while looking cautious. "In addition, Mr. Potter, it is my duty to inform you that you ha—"

"NO!" shouts Hermione suddenly, while many others, including Harry, realize just what's about to happen.

"That's not fair! HE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!" yells many in the Slytherin crowd (and nearly everywhere else), while Malfoy and Nott appear slightly smug.

"ORDER!" Umbridge has the Aurors and Ministry officials battling to quell the livid crowd.

"No matter what happens now," whispers Dumbledore to Harry. "Everything will be alright, trust me when I say this."

Looking up at his Headmaster, Harry forcibly withholds his emotions before nodding. "I think I know what's coming, sir. But if you say everything's going to be alright... then I believe in you."

"This will not go on for long, Cornelius Fudge is going to get a nasty surprise."

Screams of protest and insults come flying across the Great Hall before finally being kept orderly once more.

"Mr. Potter, you are hereby expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," says Umbridge, while Harry sees the expressions of horror and tears practically everywhere around the Great Hall. "We hope you have learnt that murder is a serious offense that is not taken kindly by the Ministry. Your sentence will begin on the final day of school, that is to day... next Friday."

Wordlessly, Harry walks down the aisle to hand over his wand, and he refuses to give these officials the satisfaction of seeing him break down. Although it hurts him tremendously to see the smiling Umbridge placing her hands on his wand, Harry stands firm in his beliefs.

_SNAP!_

For Professor Dumbledore, the greatest wizard around, has ensured him that everything will be okay. Now Harry turns around and walks slowly through the aisle. He keeps his eyes on Dumbledore standing at the doors, while refusing to see the many looks of disbelief around the room. From Gryffindor to Hufflepuff to Ravenclaw and even part of Slytherin, nobody utters a word. The Beauxbatons students and their appalled Headmistress, and the Durmstrang delegation, all remain frozen in shock. But there can be few faces as grief-stricken as Sirius and Hagrid, both of whom can now relate in so many ways to Harry's predicament. The latter now walks up to a stoic Dumbledore.

"If there is nothing else, we must return to the Ministry," says Fudge.

"There is one thing," says Harry, while turning around to address Fudge from across the Great Hall. "When Voldemort makes his return known..." Harry glares most disapprovingly at the Minister. "I almost feel sorry for you."

"Now you listen here—" Fudge is politely interrupted by Umbridge.

"We need not indulge this criminal, Minister."

So many faces can be seen wanting to run up to Harry, to comfort him, offer condolences, but instead he exits the Great Hall beside Dumbledore.

"You took that far better than even I could hope for, Harry."

"They will get their day, can't keep hiding from the truth. But I just hope everything will be as alright as you say, sir."

"I want you to follow me up to my office now," says Dumbledore. "There's something I'd like to show you, and we've got basically a week to work with. Even the slightest of knowledge and understanding might go some way against the dementors."

"But I don't have any wand anymore, sir, not unless things do turn out 'okay'. Not that I don't trust you, Headmaster."

"Occlumency is a branch of magic which isn't as conventional as you're used to. Unfortunately, Severus is busy on his own task now, using exactly what I've just said."

"You're going to teach me something?" asks Harry, whose sheer excitement at learning directly from Professor Dumbledore trumps even today's events. "Not that I'm saying you haven't taught me anything, well..."

"It's alright, I know what you mean. You didn't think I was just going to let you be thrown helpless in Azkaban did you?"

"Actually yes, I did," lies Harry, while looking at the smiling Dumbledore.

"Surprising that you've retained your sense of humour given today's most unfortunate events. If I might ask, how are you coping so well given everything that's transpired?"

"It's just three months, and although that's a hell of a long time it's still nothing compared to life. In terms of the expulsion... I can't help but feel it won't be held up for very long, not for  _me_. As for my wand, well, I think you said it was Fawkes who gave the feathers in Voldemort's and my wands?"

"You're a bright man, Harry, right on all three counts. Now I believe we should be getting on with preparing you for Fudge foolishness. Would you believe me if I said it truly hurts to have you in that horrible place?"

"Of course I do, and I'll say again that I don't blame you, sir. One day, I will be the one to kill Lord Voldemort for all the hell he's made me endure..."

Together they walk, Headmaster and student, towards the grand staircase for the first of a week's worth of lessons. Determined to endure as much as he can from his verdict, Harry hopes not to disappoint Professor Dumbledore as the first Occlumency lesson soon gets underway. He doesn't expect to become a sudden master, even if it's Dumbledore himself teaching him, but Harry's unwilling to be left utterly defenceless against the dementors next month.

 


	41. Azkaban Awaits

Occlumency with Professor Dumbledore proves to be the most interesting lesson Harry's yet had. It's clear the Headmaster knows his stuff unbelievably well, and Harry greatly respects his abilities. In some way, Harry envies Tom Marvolo Riddle having been here in the days when Dumbledore had actively been teaching. For if the week's worth of lessons are anything to go by, Harry finds Dumbledore's calm and understanding manner of explanation extremely helpful. From expounding the terms  _Occlumency_ and  _Legilimency_ , the Headmaster ensures that Harry's got a decent understanding of why he's learning to shield his mind.

"But dementors can't really read minds, right?" asks Harry, while sitting in a chair in Dumbledore's office.

"Indeed, but they certainly can bring out the worst of one's mind. So, in some sense, sealing it against magical intrusion helps defend against the effects of dementors. In your case, given where Fudge has decided to imprison you, I'd say Occlumency would be more useful than a Patronus."

"Makes sense," replies Harry. "Even if I had a wand to cast one, it wouldn't do much besides chase the dementors away. Then they'd just come back to feed on positive thoughts and emotions anyway once the Patronus has dispersed."

From the expression on Dumbledore's face, Harry reckons his response is the correct one.

"Good thinking, yes. Now before we start I'd like to introduce you to what is known as a Pensieve. A place where one may store and view extracted memories."

They walk over towards a cabinet in which a shallow stone basin lay. Clouds and wisps of silvery substance seemingly floats around in it now. After giving Harry a brief explanation of the extraction and viewing of select memories, Dumbledore turns to smile at him.

"You may temporarily store anything that you feel is of great privacy. I'd prefer that you're 100% focused on our lesson and not overly concerned about me seeing anything... compromising, so to speak."

Grateful to have his privacy respected, Harry thinks of all the fun times with Fleur and anything else they've done which he'd rather keep to himself. Soon enough, a bright silvery substance is extracted and placed into the Pensieve.

"Feeling any better? Less anxious?" asks Dumbledore.

"Yes, sir, though I suppose everyone has their own memories they'd like to keep secret."

"Too true, Harry, that is correct." Dumbledore returns Harry to the centre of the room before continuing. "Occlumency is more of a mental skill than anything else. Therefore, it is well within the ability to do it without need of a wand. However, given our rather rushed schedule and that I'd prefer you as prepared as can be, you'll start with a wand. Use it to focus your mind and clear yourself of emotions, then we'll gradually work towards not relying on one."

Looking to his right at the snapped wand laying on a nearby table (which Fawkes seems to be eyeing with much interest), Harry sighs. "But I no longer have one to use."

"I'd appreciate if you abstained from using the Killing Curse again," says Dumbledore, who smiles while holding out his wand.

"But now you won't have one to use while we're busy an—" Harry face-palms himself from feeling silly. Of course someone of Dumbledore's ability would be able to cast spells wandlessly. "Nevermind, thank you, sir."

While the Headmaster casts his _Legilimens_ spell, Harry uses Dumbledore's wand to try and focus his efforts at keeping his mind shut. Memories flash by of his pre-Hogwarts days, of arriving at school, of deciding that the Sorting Hat might be right with regards to Slytherin...

"Enough." Dumbledore halts his Legilimency, bringing everything into focus for Harry. "You've made a slight bit of effort at keeping me at bay, mind you I'm not trying very hard."

"The dementors will surely keep the bad memories coming, right? Truthfully, I wish it didn't come to this," says a sighing Harry. "I wish I didn't have to go to that horrible place."

"Myself too, all of us actually! Nobody in their right mind would want a 14 year old in that place, but we've pushed back Fudge as far as possible. The only comforts I can assure you are that some of our friendly Aurors will be nearby on shifts, that three months are better than years... and the fact of the prison's layout." Dumbledore gives Harry a look of great pity, and yet the latter can see his Headmaster's anger towards Fudge's denial. "I think it might offer you a slight bit more comfort in knowing that the Death Eaters can't get at you in Azkaban. The cells are well secured and therefore you'd be safe from physical harm. The dementors though... let us continue. Raise my wand and let's practice again."

"Sure feels odd to hold your wand, sir."

Harry braces himself as Dumbledore merely looks at him and now seamlessly begins invading his mind. Once again, flashes of childhood memories, Dudley's bullying, the Dursleys' mistreatment all come into focus. Then, with the aid of the wand in hand, Harry fights back. He forces himself to shut down his emotions, to clear his mind, and now Dumbledore's face gradually comes into slight view.

"You're slowly, but steadily, making an improvement, well done," says Dumbledore, before he adopts an apologetic look. "About those memories... I know those weren't the best of times but—"

"It's alright, I understand. Really, I do. No point in getting worked up over the Dursleys who, truth be told, I don't think they're all  _that_  bad. I just hope Voldemort never finds out that I do still have some love for them, family after all."

After over an hour's worth of learning, Harry reckons he's a slight bit better at concealing his thoughts and emotions. It hits him hard to see his wand laying in two pieces, although he reassures himself that Dumbledore's got things covered.

"Hey, bird, mind giving me another feather someday?" asks Harry, while stroking Fawkes and holding half of his wand. "Look what they did to your other one in here."

Fawkes looks at him and tilts its head to the side, letting Harry stroke it more. Then, with today's lesson having finished and his private memories returned, Harry exits the office alongside Dumbledore. But he soon runs into a sniggering bunch who point at him from the entrance to the gargoyle corridor. Zabini and Nott hold their wands quite tauntingly now.

"Oh look, isn't this such a useful tool? The most important thing to any wizard right, Blaise?"

"I'd hate to be the idiot who makes false assumptions, commits murder, and then gets himself expelled," replies Zabini, before Harry sighs. The latter now takes aim with Dumbledore's wand before grinning.

"I can't get detention anymore now, can I? Might as well hex one idiot and another idiot whose father grovelled at Voldemort's feet." Harry now looks at Dumbledore standing beside him. "Sorry, sir, guess I'm not allowed to do magic since I don't have a wand..."

"Yeah," sneers Nott. "Go ahead and get yourself into even more trouble by throwing spells at us. What? You gonna kill us too... like Parkinson's cousin?"

"That's enough," says Dumbledore. "Put your wands away right now."

"Or what?" asks Nott quite rudely. " _He's_  really back! My father told me this morning! Now you'll all see some real change around here, starting with you, old man. I hope they rid this school of its nutcase Headmaster and put someone proper in charge."

Nott's insults do little to aggravate Dumbledore in the least as the latter simply smiles.

"What? How dare you speak like that to Professor Dumbledore! So tell me,  _Theodore_ , did your father wash his face properly after all the grovelling at Voldemort's feet?"

"Forget Dumbydore and let's teach Potter a lesson in respect! He's just a criminal now anyway... hahahaha!" says Zabini.

"If you boys are going to attack, I'm afraid I will have to vouch for Harry acting in defence." Dumbledore pats Harry on the shoulder. "I can't really punish you for fighting if you're, temporarily, no longer my student."

"Are you two seriously going to duel here and no—" Harry's words are interrupted as his former roommates attack.

" _Expelliarmus_!" yells Nott.

" _Stupefy_!" adds Zabini.

Jets of red come streaking at Harry as he raises the wand to counter.

" _Stupefy_!"

The blast of red comes out with such force that Harry's pushed back a step. His single spell rips through Nott and Zabini's before sending both of them flying backwards.

"Damn!" gasps Harry.

"Right, looks like this duel's finished." Dumbledore politely takes his wand back before walking down the corridor towards the unconscious Nott and Zabini. After reviving the duo, he shakes his head at them. "You two will be cleaning the fourth and fifth floor corridors tomorrow, and I'll send word to Mr. Filch later. Have a good day."

Leaving behind two livid Slytherins, Harry and Dumbledore soon make their way to the owlery.

"Are we sending a letter? To who, sir?"

"The Dursleys, to inform them of recent events."

"They'll probably be laughing themselves to bits now. How funny that I go and get myself imprisoned and have my wand snapped."

With the letter sent by Hedwig now, in mid-afternoon, Harry finds himself a mix of angry, frustrated, scared, and equally bored. Without a wand at hand, he doesn't know what to do around Hogwarts. But he's also highly reluctant to speak with or be seen by any other student around, which is noticed by Dumbledore.

"I've asked the students to leave you alone, but you're welcome to be with your friends. I think it'd be best for you to surround yourself with friendly faces."

"What's the use if the dementors will just feed on these warm memories anyway? Might as well keep to myself..." Harry sighs audibly as they exit the owlery on the fourth floor. "What about my stuff in the dormitory? I don't want to go back there and be mocked at!"

"Believe me when I say that you  _will_  be back at Hogwarts. All of the staff and your godfather will pitch in to petition your return. So I'd suggest giving your friends some comfort, especially Miss Parkinson who no doubt needs it more than anyone else."

With Dumbledore's tone sounding quite final, Harry heads towards the dungeons while feeling highly vulnerable without his wand. After muttering the password and entering the common room, he's swarmed by numerous heartbroken students.

"Oh please, he's a murderer." Montague finds himself thrown with a spell as Flint speaks up.

"He's your ex-teammate now so show some goddamn respect, you Krumster! No wonder I kicked you off the team." Flint then goes on to offer sincere condolences on behalf of practically the entire Quidditch team who's with him. "No matter what, Harry, you'll always be the best damn Quidditch player I've ever played with. Oh, and you're a good lad too."

"How dare they put you in prison for something you haven't done?" asks a hysterical Yasmin. "They just can't do this!"

"HARRY!" Pansy comes running over to grab him into a bear-hug of sorts. "I'm so sorry, we're all so sorry! You don't deserve this! You don't, you don't, you don't! Oh God, what's going to happen to you in  _that_  place? What's going to happen to you afterwards?"

"They cannot expel you! This is UNFAIR!" screams Daphne before more students flock around Harry.

"I'll be back here and you can all count on that!" he declares quite firmly. "You really think Harry Potter's going to stay expelled?"

"Please come back! You must come back!" The youngsters grab at his robes to get his attention. Meanwhile, nobody wishes to bring up the topic of Voldemort's alleged return, and for good reason as everyone appears quite fearful. But Harry decides to spend the rest of the day in the Slytherin common room, and in the comfort of friendly faces.

Gradually, he tries to improve upon his Occlumency sessions with Dumbledore as the days pass by. It becomes slightly easier over time for Harry to shield his mind from intrusion, though he's still a long way from being anything great. It also helps that Sirius and Tonks keep him company through every single day of the week. They sit and discuss whatever could be done to lessen or remove Harry's sentencing, but nothing of note comes up.

"It's just three months... three long, hard, painful months for you, Harry," says Tonks, who's trying her best to comfort her cousin's godson.

"Fudge is going to get his day, I hope he gets his day," says Sirius, as the trio now sit on a distant part of the school grounds. "And that Umbridge woman too, she looks like a damn frog or something. God, Harry, I'm so very much worried about you. How dare they dump you in  _Azkaban_? I'M NOT GOING TO JUST SIT HERE AN—"

"Sirius!" Tonks grabs him by the arm. "Just... just calm down already. We've all tried and did our part. You will see your godson again, I promise that we'll keep him safe. You'll be there too on occasion, remember?"

"Well, if anything, at least I'm getting more hugs these days." Harry tries to lighten the heavy mood by hugging Tonks and letting her return the gesture. He notes that her hair's now quite black, which she explains to others as being dyed, if asked.

Time, however, seems to move at quite a fast pace in these final few days of fourth-year. At times, Harry finds himself faced with many apologies from the foreign students, some of whom even suggest having him enroll in their school.

"Thank you, but Hogwarts is my home," he responds, whenever the suggestion of foreign schooling is concerned. Then, after days of private lessons, being consoled by Fleur, and being in the company of Sirius and Tonks, the final day of school arrives. The day in which Harry now finds himself escorted from the gates to Hogsmeade.

By the Ministry's orders, things are done swiftly and without the attention of the press as Harry stands with the Aurors. Given various extenuating circumstances, such as his age and reputation, Harry finds himself with some leniency. With the darkened early morning skies above, he's told that he will not require to be in prison uniform.

"Consider that a favour, given all the debates and proceedings from before," says one male Auror, before Harry finds himself pulled into side-along apparition.

At the very next moment, after missing the chance for a proper farewell with the foreign schools, Harry finds himself on a dark, rocky island. The mood is instantly different as a massive, towering structure stands a fair distance ahead. The air's as cold as he's yet felt, and countless black, hooded figures fly around the prison. An immediate sense of fear, dread, and his mother's voice begins to build up from within his mind.

But he's not alone, as Harry soon sees a small part of the island being set up as an outpost of sorts. An Auror, who Harry's been told to be Mr. Shacklebolt, comes walking over with a disappointed expression.

"It's about time you got him here, Dawlish. Truth be told I don't know what the Minister thinks he's doing with all this." Shacklebolt turns to introduce himself and shake Harry's hand. "Look, we all make mistakes, and a lot of us believe that you didn't use the Killing Curse on that student."

Mad-Eye (to Harry's surprise) soon comes limping over from the outpost towards Shacklebolt.

"Looks like he's here then, well, we'll put up the anti-Apparition jinx between our shifts. Don't worry, Potter, nobody's gonna get you from out there. If you ask me, this whole show of snapping your wand and throwing you in prison's just scare tactics. You'll be back at school and with a new wand before you know it. Dumbledore's not just going to roll over for Fudge."

The Auror, Dawlish, soon turns to Harry. "Let's hope you don't lose your mind in there. We're giving you the middle cell, fairly easy to reach in case of emergency. As you can see, there'll be about two to three Aurors stationed here as well, and the dementors are ordered to leave us alone. That's not to say they won't affect you."

"Let's just get this over with." Harry tries his best to stay calm, even as each step towards the entrance of the towering structure seems to siphon out any positive thoughts. The dementors watch him quite keenly now, their hooded faces following Harry as he's taken up a staircase.

Everything in this building seems to be made of stone, and everything seems cold, dark, or very much gloomy. There's no happiness here, nothing to keep any of these prisoners in a positive state of mind at all. From the entrance door to the staircase, Harry walks upon rocky ground as he's led upwards. Even the layout of the prison would drive many quite mad as it's just brick, stone, or concrete everywhere.

Up the stairs Harry now walks, while Dawlish and Moody lead him ahead. So tall is this structure that the stairs seem to wind and wind almost forever. Every so often Harry passes a window, no bigger than his head. Each one looks out onto the rocks below, while the vast expanse of sea is all that stretches out around the island. But the stairs just keep on climbing until the group stops to turn right.

"Hang in there, Potter, hang in there," says Moody, who Harry can see is angered by this predicament. They walk down a short corridor where a heavily secured cell awaits. "Even if the others walk till here they can't get into your room. Dumbledore's pulled many strings to keep you safe in here."

While dressed in simple black robes of school, Harry walks ahead and sees the reinforced cell door shut. Now he's on his own as the Aurors begin to exit the structure, and the dementors waste little time in circling around Harry's cell, though outside. Cold, bitter thoughts enter his mind, of failing to save Alyssa, of letting her down. Thoughts of how disappointed many might be at Harry's use of the Killing Curse, thoughts of the Dursleys celebrating themselves being rid of 'the freak'.

Harry does find some humour in noting how the cell seems similar in size compared to his room at the Dursleys. But there's little to do in here, nothing to do, really. A hard bed, basic toiletries, a sink, toilet, and one cold as hell shower are all that's seemingly available. From outside, the dementors continue to pass by and seemingly suck the happiness from the room, causing him to forcibly clear his mind and try some Occlumency. It works, only slightly though, but it's just about enough to keep him from feinting in the dementors' presence.

How many minutes now pass by? Harry can hardly be too sure as the skies lighten only the slightest bit. Sitting alone with thoughts he'd rather not relive, Harry decides to lie down. The sound of waves hitting the rocks outside, and of a rather heavy downpour of rain are all that he hears from within the room. It's cold and dark, as well as looking the same everywhere. Rocks, stone, black, grey, lighter grey, black... Harry now reminds himself that he's innocent, and that he'll one day kill Tom Riddle for all this suffering.

_"I got a shot on_ — _"_

He blocks the words from his mind, unwilling to let them get to him.

_"Not Harry!"_

More thoughts are forcibly contained as Harry reminds himself that he's already met with his parents. He's already heard their voices speak to him again. The dementors may try but he remains staring out the smallest of windows while his thoughts remain of... nothing.

Nothing at all as he sits on the bed, as he gets up to pace the room. It's cold and it's dark everywhere as always, it's also boring as hell for Harry right now. With nothing to do, he thinks about what the Dursleys might be doing now, and Harry immediately sees them laughing at him. Poking fun at him for bringing all this onto himself by going to the 'abnormal' world. He can clearly imagine Uncle Vernon roaring with laughter while eating through another chicken at the food table.

Chicken... and now Harry feels a slight pang of hunger, and this only worsens in the cold, draining presence of the dementors outside. Minutes? Hours? Some amount of time seems to have passed by as Harry lies on his bed, and soon a familiar cold, dreadful presence creeps up the corridor towards his room. A thud on the ground alerts him to a sealed tray of food brought by a dementor, whose presence only heightens Harry's fears.

He doesn't ask, nor does Harry care where this food's came from... but it seems somewhat edible enough. With tray in hand he sits down upon the bed while getting in as much as he can. So engrossed is Harry on eating that he barely hears the footsteps pattering in the corridor outside.

The dementor seems to have glided away in the direction of the stairs. Then, just as Harry finishes his meal, a loud bang on the cell's bars jolts him upright. A loud bang... and a wicked voice.

"Little bitty baby... POTTEEEEEEEER!"

"WHAT THE HELL?"

Harry leaps up from his bed to see a seemingly insane woman standing at his cell's entrance. Her hair an untidy mess of black, her eyes glinting quite manically, and her expression one of sheer fury.

"Who the—?"

"Does it matter? Look who's here now: the little piece of rubbish that took away my Master. But he's back now, you see?" She shows the vivid Dark Mark on her arm. "He's back, and he's going to kill you. I WANT HIM TO KILL YOU, STUPID BOY!"

"Well, at least give me your name before you spew insults and death threats."

"Why should I let one filthy, disgusting, wretched Half-Blood swine know  _my_  name? If it weren't for these accursed bars then I'd slit your throat!" She pounds her fists on the bars, and Harry now falls to his knees from the dementors circling his cell.

"Damn, that feels like hell..."

"HAHAHAHA! The pig can't stand the dementors, oh he's just a little baby..." The woman now adopts a mock-baby tone. "The wittle baby can't stand the dementors around his pwison cell? Oh that is such a shame then, isn't it? He's so fwightened in here, so alone, nobody to help the fool."

"You're crazy."

"Actually, for your information, boy, you're the one that is crazy. Crazy enough to think you'll be safe now that's He's back, and crazy enough to put yourself in Azkaban. And just how did the wittle baby end up with the big bad dementors? ANSWER ME NOW! I don't have all day to stand here, dementors don't want us having a little chat."

"Why don't you then run outside if you're somehow out of your cell, lady?"

"Run outside?" She laughs manically, her eyes widened at him as she does so. "And do what? Get my soul sucked out for trying to escape? Swim across the ocean since we don't have wands? Now tell me why you are here, you filth."

"Falsely accused of killing someone."

"Oh please, I've done that before, but not  _falsely_  accused. Weak. You don't stand a chance against the Dark Lord, half-blood swine."

"You seem to really like the Dark Lord, don't you?" Harry walks to take a seat on the ground against his bed.

"I'm his favourite and most loyal! Why would I not? You're just prey... itty bitty prey that's going to be SQUASHED when He comes to free us. FIFTEEN YEARS we've spent awaiting His most glorious return. I will gut you like a pig, baby Potter."

"You don't scare me, whoever you are."

"You jest, Harry Potter, I can smell your fear all the way from here. Such a tragic end for a wretched young boy to be here. Don't worry though, when He comes then you'll be free from Azkaban... and free of your existence."

"Why should I be scared of some whack lady banging on my cell? What you gonna do if you get in? Jump me on the bed? In the shower?" Harry decides to waste more time by fooling around with this woman. For, as he thinks to himself, she seems to almost be a taller, older, and crazier version of Pansy.

"You dare speak to me like that? FILTHY HALF-BLOOD SCUM! I'd sooner rip those things off than indulge those filthy remarks."

"Well, come and rip them off right now, I'm waiting..."

"If these bars weren't here..."

"Shame, fifteen years of seeing the same faces over and over in this prison. You look like you're in need of a good—" Harry laughs and raises his arms as a stone comes flying his way.

"Pelt the Half-Blood! Pelt the Half-Blood!" She continues to throw whatever little stones lay about outside the cell.

"Alright, how about... pelt the Pureblood!" Harry returns fire by throwing a stone which the woman blocks. "Pelt the Pureblood!"

"You little wittle bitch."

"You crazy bitch."

"Go and die, Harry Potter."

"Get stuffed."

"Go and die by the Dark Lord."

"Get stuffed up the arse."

"Bellatrix Lestrange, that's my name. Remember it when the Dark Lord takes your life... for we'll all remember your name when you're a rotting corpse."

"Very charming, aren't you?"

"Very dead, aren't you?"

"How childish to copy my sentences like that. What? The dementors rot your brain over the years?"

"I'm going to kill you."

"Your Lord wouldn't appreciate that, since he's dead set on doing it himself."

"Then I'm going to watch him kill you."

"Okay, I'll order some take-aways for the show."

"Your life will be taken away."

Harry makes an exaggerated yawning gesture. "B for B-B-B-Boriiiiing! Aaargh, damn!" He holds his head while forcing himself to resist the dementors' influence.

Cackling with laughter, Bellatrix snarls at Harry. "That's what you get for being a smart-mouth. Oh, here they come to take me back, so long, dead boy."

"Before you go," says Harry, through heavy breaths. "Do you really think you're the Dark Lord's favourite?"

While turning to leave, Bellatrix screams at him. "OF COURSE I AM, YOU FILTHY HALF-BLOODED ANIMAL!"

"Oh, okay... not sure which Slytherin you're referring to there. I mean, your Lord's basically the same thing as me—"

"SHUT UP!"

"And by the way, I'm pretty sure His favourite is now Barty Crouch Junior."

"HAHAHAHA! YOU ARE AN IDIOT, BOY! AN IDIOT WHO DOESN'T READ UP ON MAGICAL HISTORY BECAUSE YOU CAME FROM FILTHY MUGGLES! Poor Barty is long dead, in case you didn't know."

"Ooooooh no." Harry stands up then turns to grin at Bellatrix. "He's very much alive and well. Got smuggled out waaaay back while his mother used Polyjuice to take his place and die."

"Don't you mock me with your lies, boy. I will murder you to bits and pieces."

"You ever heard of the Triwizard Tournament? Well, let's just say it was actually a trap where I faced, and escaped, your Lord."

"But I am still his favourite... always was and always will be. Even more so after _fifteen years_ of waiting in here."

"Too bad the Dark Lord favours having someone looking for him, and help giving him a new body, over your jail time. Shame."

"You're trying to cast doubt in my mind, eh? Trying some Slytherin tactics that we use on others? I've used doubt at school many times to get people to fail exams back in the day. Nope, not going to work on me," says Bellatrix.

"I'm just telling you how it is. Sure, the Dark Lord might—"

"Blah blah blah blah... lalalalalaaaa blah blah..."

"—show some favouritism towards you. But good ol' Barty Junior is definitely his new _top_ favourite."

"Blah blah, oh look there's a dementor behind me so it's time to go back. You can keep your lies to yourself while you're still alive. Not for long, though," says Bellatrix, before turning around and heading back to her cell.

"Crazy witch... maybe it's not totally boring in here," mutters Harry to himself. But his moment of laughter is short-lived as the effects of numerous dementors begin to take hold once again. It also seems that, fortunately, the other inmates share no intentions of wanting to come see the Boy-Who-Lived. For Harry, this comes a relief as he's a fair bit more accustomed to fooling around with females. Time now continues to remain an unknown in this place, while Harry reassures himself that things aren't so bad after all.

"Just three months to go, over ninety days..."

 


End file.
